Warnings: Public sex, oral (m receiving), hint of upcoming mirror kink. Praise kink.
A/N: Inspired by this gif. Sinday drabble #3
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry, darlin’,” Steve sighs, his hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles blanched. His baleful eyes watching the gallery, people slowing filtering in from the crowded sidewalk.
Whenever the door swings open, the music from the live band pours out into the still night air, melding with the low hum of conversations of the patrons inside.
Your head lolls slowly across the headrest, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips. You bite down to hide it when he glances over at you. You knew beforehand he was going to be nervous. The tension has been radiating off him ever since his art was selected for the upcoming exhibit. Each day, he found a new excuse to not go to tonight’s opening.
You had to drag your shy boyfriend into the car an hour ago.
So when he cut the engine off and froze, you’re not surprised. You only murmur a soft ‘there’s no rush’ when he dros his head back.
And you mean it. You’re proud that he made it this far.
You’ve been sitting here, inhaling his sandalwood and vanilla cologne, gazing out the frost-covered window for the past 15 minutes, you can practically hear Steve contemplating ways to convince you to run away with him
“I’m-I can’t go in there and be around all those people. Watching them look at my art. Its too personal. Parts of me are out there in the open, exposed darlin’ and they’re going to tear it-tear me apart. I might as well walk in there naked.” He explains, his deep voice coming out in a rush, almost cracking.
Placing your hand on the side of his face, your smile breaks free when he pushes his beard cheek into your palm. “Steve,” you start, waiting until his blue eyes meet yours. “Your art is incredible. You’re incredible. All these people came to celebrate what you created. I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done. You gotta believe that.”
Your warm voice settles in his chest, easing the ache that’s been building there. His gaze brightens, his hands loosening slightly. “I know, I know I get all worked up and start thinking about all the way things can go wrong and then I just-“ He blows a soft breath, shrugging one broad shoulder. Uncertainty dragging his lips down.
“You need to relax.” You glance around the street, people lingering outside near the doors, after a second, you spot a dark alley a few blocks down. “And I know how to help you do it.”
His brows furrow when you tell him to start the car, his eyes brimming with curiosity as you direct him to the small, dimly lit space. As soon as he turns off the ignition, the interior lights fading, you’re reaching across the space, cradling his head in your hands. You bring him in for a slow, passionate kiss, his soft lips parting, a low moan slipping out. Kissing Steve is one of your favorite hobbies, the feel of his beard on your face combined with the taste of his coffee on his tongue is intoxicating.
Your hand drifts down his silky smooth shirt hiding his firm chest, your lips gliding across his jaw to his ear, your fingers settle over his zipper. “I think you need a little stress relief, Stevie, you want me to help you?”
The growing bulge beneath your hand speaks volumes, but you still like to hear him say it.
“Tell me how I can help you?” You're teasing him, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as you unbutton his pants. His breath hastening in anticipation as you pull the zipper down, the slow zzzip pings through the air, reaching inside his grey boxer briefs, you pull him out. You lower your head, blowing softly across his leaking tip— his whole body shivers. “Tell. Me. What. You. Want.”
“Ah fuck darlin’ you know what I want. Please suck me, need your mouth on me,” he rambles with a desperate lilt to his voice. His hand gently cupping the back of your head, wanting to push you down on his throbbing cock but he knows to wait for you give him permission to lose control and fuck your face.
Your tongue laves across his slit, his unique salty taste filling your mouth. His fingers tense on your scalp. You wrap your hands around his thick, warm cock, pumping him slowly. Tilting your head, you smirk. “Then take what you want.”
And he does.
His hand guiding you down his cock, your lips stretching wide around him, swallowing every ridge veiny inch until he’s sliding down your throat. Steve holds you there for a second. “You feel so good darlin’” he praises you, as you slide back up. “So fuckin’ good, so damn perfect.”
Steve may not like to talk to a lot of people but when he’s inside you, when you’re taking him down your throat, when any part of you is wrapped him nice and tight and warm, oh Steve can’t shut up. More praises rain down on you as you hollow your cheeks. His hips lift off the seat, thrusting his cock back further into your mouth, you gag slightly, breathing through your nose as he fills you, he’s throbbing and heavy on your tongue.
You let him set the pace until you’re steadily gliding up and down his length, its wet and sloppy and his breathy moans are drifting around you. “Just like that, good girl, thats it.”
You can’t see him, too focused on making him cum but you know his head is dropped back, neck veins distended, a faint blush sweeping across his cheeks. Steve’s muscles tense beneath you, his breath hitching. He’s so close. You wrap your hand around him, twisting up and down and you twirl your tongue around his swollen tip before sucking it back into your mouth. And he jerks, his hips rocking erratically as he cums— he spills inside your mouth with a low groan that makes your thighs clench, his broken “fuuuck” has you preening as you swallow.
You lift your head, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand. “Better? Ready to go?”
“You have no idea how good you make me feel do you?” His soft appreciative groan settles around you, he brings you up for a kiss. His lips brush over yours. “I’ll go but only if you promise to sit on my face as soon as we get home.”
You bite down on his lip, letting your teeth rake over his skin. “If you’re good, I’ll let you fuck in the room with all those weird mirrors.”
Steve’s eyes light up with unbridled excitement. “The infinity mirror exhibit?”
He’s shifting into gear and the tires are screeching down the alley before you finish nodding. You fall back into your seat with a laugh. If you have to get railed in a room full of mirrors, watching your boyfriend take you apart from every angle so he can be relaxed enough to enjoy his art debut--that's a sacrifice you’re willing to make.
Summary: Steve gets injured during an important match and all you can do is look on helplessly.
Requested: @demonpoxballad @babybluebuck @espoirea (also some people who expressed an interest in part 2: @rogersevans @steviesnight-time @exposition-belongs-somewhere)
Warnings: boxing match and associated violence, injuries to Steve’s face, like one swear word, slight mention of sex if you squint
Word count: 2.7k
A/N: so I really enjoyed writing the first part of this and I had a few people request a part 2, so here’s a sequel for you - also, I know nothing about boxing other than the 10 minutes of reading I did to write this so please don’t come for me in the comments
Dividers by @whimsicalrogers
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The boxing gym smelled of vile sweat, Deep Heat and a waft of chlorine which came from the cool down pool out back. That scent sadly hadn’t changed in the twenty odd years Steve had been coming to this gym, and he suspected that it had now become infused in the old bricks which the building was made from.
As disgusting as that smell was, and as long it had taken for Steve to become accustomed to it, he now associated it with success. Every match he hosted on his home turf had ended with him being victorious - and tonight he wasn’t planning on blemishing his perfect record.
It was nearing 8:30 - the time when the bell would ding indicating the start of the match. Steve’s wrists were strapped, slotted into his lucky pair of boxing gloves, mouth guard in protecting the teeth his mother spent a fortune straightening with braces, and boots were tightly tied as to protect his ankles which were such a crucial component of a boxer's agility.
His opponent, a tall, long haired blonde who went by the name Thor, was preparing with his team in the opposite corner of the centre ring, his groupies sitting front row on his side of the ring, donning crop tops with criss-crossed lightning bolts
Steve, however, only had two people in his corner - his best friends Bucky and Sam. His Ma became too nervous watching grown men throwing punches at her baby boy, so she usually stayed away and asked for the play-by-play after the match was finished.
The only other person Steve had extended an invitation to was you, making sure to have the event organisers save you a seat in the front row on his side, but a few seats down from Sam and Bucky so they couldn’t sink their claws into you, telling you embarrassing stories about his childhood and dorky adult self while he was distracted with the match.
His eyes flickered towards the entrance of the gym every minute, anticipating your arrival, which was yet to occur. The insecure, self-doubting part of his brain was now convinced, with less than ten minutes until the bell, that you weren’t going to show. Why would someone who he walked to a subway station once accept an invite to attend his boxing match? You barely knew each other.
Trying not to descend into a self-deprecating spiral about your no show, and instead concentrate on the upcoming contest, Steve didn’t notice you enter the gym slightly out of breath, hurriedly giving your name to the security guard who showed you to your reserved seat in the front row.
Movement out of the corner of Steve’s eye caught his attention, and he turned to watch you shuffle to your seat.
As you sat down in your designated spot, you flashed Steve a lustrous smile and gave him a small wave, making his stomach flip. He unintentionally tuned out the instructions his manager was verbalising at that moment as relief washed over him that you had arrived. Steve consciously pulled his focus back inside the ring, actively trying not to think about how gorgeous you looked in your seat, and the palpable anxiety which was now radiating off him.
Did Steve normally get nervous before matches? Yes. But it was usually an ‘adrenaline is pumping through your veins so all your senses are heightened’ type of stress. This felt more like a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, so much so that he felt nauseous.
He had never been this nervous for a match before, and he knew it all had to do with the beautiful woman sitting ringside cheering for him.
After your arrival, the lead up to the match was a blur of nerves, his manager slapping his face to pump him up for the impending contest and the crowd being riled up by the ring announcer.
The ding to start the match almost came as a surprise as his manager slipped between the ropes to hop down to ground level as the referee called Steve and Thor together.
The first round started with each opponent taking their time to assess their adversary, waiting for an opportunity to counter attack once the other overbalanced on an eager punch. Steve had done his homework, Thor was a brash and impatient boxer, usually opting for a one time KO blow rather than strategically navigating all three rounds. When the first round ended, and the judges decided it was a draw, Steve knew he had Thor right where he wanted him.
In the one minute break before the start of the next round, while his manager gave him an electrolyte-rich drink and quick advice on how to approach the next round, he snuck a glance at you, his chest tightening at the sight of you already looking at him, smiling and clapping encouragingly.
When the second round started, Steve could immediately see Thor’s increased intensity, playing more on the front foot, arms reaching around Steve’s defence, opening opportunities for Steve to jab punches to his chest.
After a few more strikes, he could tell Thor was becoming irritated, bouncing on the balls of his feet and muttering aggrieved phrases under his breath. Steve took that opportunity to put forth an attack, aggressively stepping forward and swinging for his jaw.
His fist was met with Thor’s defence, expertly blocking the punch, as if he knew it was coming before Steve even started to move. Thor used this chance to counter attack and hit Steve across the side of the face in a merciless punch which had him seeing stars.
The blow knocked Steve breathlessly to the ground, a loud gasp resounding throughout the audience. The referee rushed across to Steve, who groaned in pain, and started the count on the floor of the ring. 1. 2. 3.
Blood rushed to Steve’s already hot and sweaty face, and he spat out clotted blood which had pooled at the front of his mouth. He tried to shake the disorientation from his head, steady his thoughts and quickly pull himself together from the dizzying punch in time to continue the contest. 4. 5. 6.
The entire crowd was shouting at him to get up. Through the commotion, he could clearly hear a softer voice from the front row, barely a meter away. Your voice. C’mon Steve, you’ve got this. Get up and finish the fight. 7. 8. 9.
Before the ref could complete the count, Steve stood up with gritted teeth (to a chorus of triumphant cheers from spectators), fists held out in defence in front of him showing he was ready to continue the match, now more determined than ever to throw a KO punch.
The second round went to Thor as he was able to knock Steve down, meaning with Thor in the lead, the only way for Steve to win now was to knock him out.
Thor became defensive in the third and final round, trying to protect his lead at all costs. But this gave Steve an opening to be as attacking as possible. He had nothing to lose at this point.
With strategic manoeuvres and goading from Steve, he was able to provoke Thor into a wild swing which left his defences down. Putting as much strength as he could behind the punch, Steve threw his fist at Thor’s unguarded jaw, knocking him down to the ground and watching on as the referee counted to 10.
The ref rushed over to Steve, holding up his hand in victory which animated the crowd. Even with his vision blurred, you were the first person he sought out in the audience, giving him a standing ovation and a round of applause, cheering louder than anyone else in the gym.
After the match, Steve sat on one of the benches in the locker room, caged in by his manager and friends who were frantically trying to assess the damage to his face. They quickly congratulated him on the win, but were more troubled by the hit he had taken, ushering him away from the rowdy spectators and into the restricted change rooms.
You leaned on the doorframe, watching on with concern, but not wanting to interfere. Even though Steve invited you to watch the match, you didn’t really have any right to be in there with his team.
“Guys, c’mon, the doc already checked me out, I’m fine - I’ve taken worse hits.” He shooed away his overly attentive friends to give himself space to breathe. Even from the spot by the door, you could see the intense red swelling around his left eye, which would undoubtedly turn into a blue and purple mess by morning.
You were completely helpless watching on from the stands as Steve was in the middle of the match, your stomach contorting as he absorbed blows left and right, and that bone crunching punch to the side of his face left you cringing, a shiver running down your spine as he spat blood on the floor of the ring when you weren’t sure if he would get to his feet again. To have access to the locker room, seeing him upright, talking coherently and smiling, even through obvious pain, was a blessing.
“Do you guys mind giving us the room? Got to thank my lucky charm.” Steve requested loud enough for you to hear, heat rushing to your cheeks. Who you had today come to know as Sam must have teased Steve under his breath as Bucky let out a sharp chortle as they made their way out of the room.
“Lucky charm, huh?” You grinned, stepping inside the room.
The relief which you had seen hit him like a bus when he noticed you in your seat just before the match had made it fairly clear he hadn’t expected you to show - the thought of him doubting whether you would keep your word of attending made your heart clench.
That relief, however, was nothing compared to the longing in his eyes now, which he was failing miserably at concealing.
“Well yeah - you were here and I won, hence my lucky charm.” You weren’t going to be the one to correct him that he had in fact won every match prior to your attendance. If he wanted to bestow this honour on you, you’d freely let him.
In one hand he held an ice pack to the side of his swollen, yet still gorgeous face, but the other reached forward and grabbed yours, pulling you closer to him.
“Thank you for coming.” He leaned down slightly and placed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.
Fuck, this man was charming.
“I’m sorry I was almost late, I wanted to wish you good luck before you stepped in the ring, but my train was delayed.” You tried to explain, feeling the need to justify your late entrance so that he wouldn’t need to doubt you again - you were always intending to attend, and if he kept calling you his lucky charm, no one would be able to keep you away.
“You don’t need to apologise, that was out of your control. Regardless, I loved having you front and centre cheering me on - I’m really glad you chose to come.” His smile was warm, matching the affection shining in his eyes. That, combined with the way his thumb rubbed the back of your hand, made your heart skip a beat.
“Me too.” It was the easiest choice you ever made. “And congratulations on the win, that must be huge for you.”
Steve commented about how important defeating Thor had been for his rankings and how he could potentially be asked to attend state championships next month, but to be honest, his voice sounded distant when you stared into his ocean blue eyes, which were so deep and mesmerising, you could easily find yourself drowning in them.
It was only when you heard the rustling of the ice pack as Steve adjusted it on the side of his face that you noticed he had finished speaking.
“Here, let me.” You offered, breaking the silence, taking the bag from his hand, fingers brushing over his, rearranging it so that it covered the worst of the inflammation.
“How bad is it?” He questioned and you removed the ice pack for a short second to survey his face. Not that you needed any extra time to determine how beautiful you already knew he was, but it did give you an excuse to gaze at his sharp, attractive features for a moment longer.
“It’s not too bad, you’ll probably just have a black eye and some swelling for a little while. Nothing you’re not used to I’m sure.” You smiled in an attempt to provide some sort of comfort, brushing a strand of his sweaty hair out from obstructing his one good eye. “It’s a shame though, you had such a pretty face.” You softly teased, trying to keep the pressure of the ice pack light so as to not hurt him further. His cheeks flushed crimson red as he broke eye contact to shyly look at the ground.
God, you loved when his face blushed as a result of something you did, just like outside the subway station when you kissed him on the cheek earlier in the week. Knowing you had that effect on him, this gorgeous, kind-hearted man who was built like a god, gave you an unrivalled confidence you’d never felt before.
“You think I’m pretty?” His voice was amusedly quizzical, as if he had never heard that word used to describe himself before - and as a 6’5, burly framed man who probably had the strength to snap someone’s neck if he were so inclined, you suspected he hadn’t.
“Yeah. The handsomest boxer in all of New York.” Maybe even the entire world. “Probably the most kind and attentive too.”
His hand cupped your cheek, staring endearingly into your eyes, but there was something of a determination in them as well, as if he was compelling himself to hold back from making a move, ever the gentleman. But, you didn’t want him to be chivalrous in this moment, you wanted him to pin you against the lockers and slide his tongue in your mouth - amongst other things.
You turned your head and gently pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist where red irritation marks from his not long ago removed tight strapping had dug into his skin.
“Steve?” There was a lilt to your voice which indicated it was a question.
“Hmm.” He hummed, never once taking his eyes off you. You knew from his sincere restraint that you needed to give him permission if this was to go any further.
“Kiss me.” It wasn’t a question - it was closer to a necessity, needing him to kiss you more than air in this stuffy locker room.
Once he was given your blessing, his resolve melted instantly, and he was kissing you before you had a chance to take another breath. His lips were slightly chapped, but still plump against yours, your body melting into his strong figure, trying to be mindful of where he had taken hits earlier as to not graze any forming bruises, but it was almost impossible to keep a train of thought when he kissed you so ardently.
When Steve finally pulled away, all toothy smiles and flushed cheeks, he watched you intently as you both caught your breath, eyes sparkling even in the poorly lit change room.
“So, can I take you out for a drink?” He asked with a grin, but this time an air of confidence which you hadn’t seen on him before.
“You mean like with your buddies to celebrate your win?” You’d take any time you could get with Steve, but you couldn’t hide the slight disappointment that you’d need to share his attention throughout the night, especially after he just kissed you with such fervour.
“No darlin’, like on a date.” He hooked his index finger under your chin, taking a moment to stare into your eyes in an adoring way which made you feel beautiful, before kissing you again.
If he kept this up, you’re not sure you’d even make it to the bar.
Warnings/Tags: Random wintertime fluff, suggestive themes, slightly insecure Reader, Steve Rogers (that's it, that's the warning, because he's dangerous for my heart).
Summary: You're trapped indoors on a snowy day, bored out of your mind. Luckily, your sweet yet hot neighbour arrives right on time to remedy that for you.
Notes: Dedicated to @teacupcollector who inspired this little one shot! 💖
Steve Rogers Taglist: @writing-for-marvel @tellmealovestory @saranghaey @hiddelstannerbarnes @qu1etwolf @ramenyul
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You woke up this morning to a blanket of white outside your window. Everything was covered in a thick layer of snow, and it was still coming down in flurries. Shivering at the cool air seeping through the glass, you shut the blinds and decided to abandon your plans to visit the grocery store. You would make do with what you had in your pantry, which was really just cans of soup and a loaf of bread that was bordering on stale.
You searched through the cupboards and find an almost empty jar of Nutella, and luckily you still had just enough milk left in the fridge and cocoa powder in the pantry to make yourself a cup of Nutella hot chocolate. Who cares if it’s still early in the morning? Nobody’s around to judge you. Mouth watering at the prospect, you took the extra time to combine everything in a small saucepan over the stove. Too bad you didn’t have any marshmallows, but this would do just fine.
When your concoction was nice and smooth, you poured the contents into your favourite giant latte mug. Dressed in your coziest sweater, leggings and fuzzy socks, you sat in front of your fireplace with your tablet, hoping to catch up on your shows as you sipped on your sweet treat. You scrolled through your options, unable to decide between rewatching something you loved or trying something new, when you heard a noise coming from outside.
It was the distinctive sound of something scraping against your driveway. It was the sound of someone shovelling your driveway. And there was only one person on this block who would do something like that for you.
You slammed your half-empty mug down onto the nearby coffee table, leaping up from your seat to peek out the blinds. And there he was: your next-door neighbour—your sweet and unfairly sexy neighbour Steve Rogers. You could only see his army green parka and dark jeans standing out amongst all the snow as he worked on clearing your driveway. Your car was parked in the garage; he probably thought you weren’t home and wanted to surprise you when you got back. It was totally something Steve would do.
Quickly throwing on your coat and boots, you threw open your front door and called out to him.
“Steve!” Your breathing hitched when he stopped at the sound of your voice, straightening and lifting his head. The blue of his eyes struck you, even from a distance, right through the heart. “My god, Steve. What—You really don’t have to—” You couldn’t even get the words out, you were feeling so grateful. You didn’t have any family in the area you could rely on, and you had always been an introvert, rarely ever venturing out of your house except to do your necessary shopping and to go to work.
Steve had stepped up as your only friend in the neighbourhood the moment you moved in, helping you put up your shelving, offering to help you fix things around the house when they broke down so you could save some money, giving you advice on which contractors to go with when you wanted to redo your kitchen, buying you stuff during his own grocery runs because, “I remembered you mentioning once that you liked this brand. And it was on sale! So, you know, I had to.”
And now he was shovelling the snow off your driveway, without even being asked. You trudged over to where he is, even though the thick layer of snow made it a bit difficult. “At least let me help you!” You screamed over the sound of the wind. Steve looked beautiful and adorable like this, small crystals of ice dotting at his hairline where the bitter cold had frozen his beads of sweat along his forehead. You resist the urge to curse as your fingers were already starting to go numb as you’ve forgotten your mittens inside. Steve noticed this, of course, because nothing ever seemed to slip past him, and he clicked his tongue at you.
“You should go back inside.” His sweet voice wrapped around you like a warm embrace, before he took your bare hands in his gloved ones. You felt him squeeze a little, but your eyes were glued to the little puffs of breath leaving his mouth, now visible in tiny clouds of white in the frigid winter air.
“Steve—” You said, about to protest.
“Please? Let me take care of you.” Both of your eyes went wide when he let this slip. He wanted to take care of you? Warmth—actually, red-hot heat—blooms in your chest at the thought, your mind wandering. You had always shamelessly wondered if Steve would be a gentle and tender lover, all loving kisses and soft caresses, or if there was a slightly darker side of him lurking underneath that sweet boy-next-door exterior. Steve snapped you out of your thoughts by quickly clearing his throat to correct himself. “Let me take care of this for you.”
You didn’t trust your legs to hold you up for much longer, every fibre of your being fighting the urge to swoon and just keel over in the snow. He probably didn’t even need to finish the job, given the way your blood was scorching through your veins and your skin felt like it was on fire, you could probably melt all of the snow in the neighbourhood in mere minutes.
“Will you come in when you’re done, then?” You relented. “I’ll make you some lunch.” It was the least you could do. It had nothing to do with the fact that you couldn’t get enough of his soft smile and boyish good looks, in stark contrast with his looming frame. Maybe it would give you an excuse to press your hands against his rosy pink cheeks, to feel them warm under your palms.
“Alright. I’ll see you soon.” For a hot minute, you thought Steve might lean down and kiss you goodbye; his lopsided smile looked almost flirtatious. But Steve was an actual god amongst men who most likely had hoards of women (and, let’s face it, probably lots of men, too) who were lining up to ask him out on a date. You probably didn’t have a cold chance in hell. Reluctantly, you turned away from him to march back to your front door. You paused every few steps to look back at him, but he just kept at his task with focused concentration.
Once you were inside, you scrambled to throw off your coat and boots and scour your kitchen for something you could make. You were finally having him over for lunch, and you couldn’t even impress him with your awesome cooking skills because there was nothing to cook! You would have to serve him vegetable soup from a can with days-old bread that you swore was only minutes from moulding, and the thought made you want to cringe with embarrassment.
About twenty minutes later, after you finished the rest of your rapidly cooling hot chocolate, almost impossibly soon, there was a knock on your door. You couldn’t even bring yourself to play it cool as you raced over, glancing over at the entryway mirror to check out your appearance. Not exactly what you had in mind for your first meal together, but hey, you’d take what you could get.
When you opened the door, your spirits were simultaneously lifted and shot down when you saw he was carrying a bag of groceries in his arms.
“I hope you don’t mind I brought some stuff over.” You shook your head, despite your mild frustration.
“You’re always helping me out, Steve. I’m the one who’s supposed to be repaying you.” You stepped back and opened the door a little wider to let him in, but as he stepped through the doorway, something caused him to pause in his tracks. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had a few ideas as to how exactly you could repay him—each more unsavoury than the last. He kept these thoughts to himself, however, as he towered over you. His impossibly blue eyes—ones you swear would haunt you for the rest of your days in the absolute best way—fixed on you, a slow smile began to spread across his perfect face. He was too far gone now; he had noticed the sweet scent on you earlier, but he was in your house now, with you just inches away from him.
Steve liked to think he was a nice guy, but he also wouldn’t call himself a saint, and right now, his willpower to keep you at a distance was slowly draining out of him, especially when—
“I can smell the chocolate on you.” He said, leaning down just a little closer to get a better whiff. “And a little bit of something else. What is that, sweets?”
“Hazelnut? I put Nutella in my hot chocolate earlier.” You managed to squeak out, your cheeks flaming, your stomach flipping with anticipation when he all but dropped the groceries from his hands. They slid slowly from his arms, landing with a loud crash onto your hardwood floor. You couldn’t bring yourself to really give a shit, though, especially when those hands of his wound themselves around your waist.
“Oh, damn, that sounds good. Please, please, let me have a taste.” Shit. Begging? Was Steve actually begging? You had no words, so you just threw your arms around his shoulders and literally jumped into his strong muscled arms. His parka was still chilly to the touch, but no matter, either you would warm it up for him real quick or he would just take it off soon anyway—or better yet, maybe he would let you take it off for him.
Steve pressed his lips against yours in a wild, frenzied, open-mouthed kiss, licking at your tongue and sending shockwaves down your spine. Kissing him was somehow both exactly and nothing like what you thought—just as amazing as you knew it would be, yet so much better than what your imagination could possibly come up with. The front door was still wide open, and if anyone ventured out into the storm right now, they would see you with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his large hands shamelessly palming at your backside. When you pulled back to catch your breath, you were already aching for more.
Your painfully perfect neighbour just grinned at the sight of your kiss-swollen lips and kicked your door shut with a loud bang, hard enough to practically shake your entire house. For some reason, the thought made you absolutely weak. He kicked off his boots and walked you back into the living room, his arms still wrapped firmly around you. Steve laid you down on the couch, nose buried in the crook of your neck as he inhaled the scent of chocolate clinging to your hair, your clothes—mingled with the scent that was distinctly you.
“Forget lunch, sweets. I wanna do that again and again and again—” His rambling was cut off as he kissed you one more time, this one, somehow, if possible, much more desperate than the last. You clung to him then, one hand clasped at the back of his neck, pulling him closer, more firmly against you, the other wounding your fingers through his soft blond hair.
Who were you, after all, to deny him?
A/N: Not me, sitting here actually stuck indoors on a snowy day today, wishing for a stupidly sexy Steve to roll up his sleeves and come rescue me. Like, there's so much snow out there right now I may never see the outdoors again lol.
Summary: Soulmate AU where each set of soulmates has a song that only they know that kind of explains their love story! What happens when you and Steve start living yours?
Warnings: nothing that I can think of aside from slight angst!
Word Count: 9251
a/n: another fic idea that came to me while listening to music on the way home from work :) The song I used is Secret Love Song by Little Mix! I just ignored the parts about being in love with someone who's already in a relationship anymore lol. Also, we're ignoring the accords and everything that came after in favor of Bucky and everyone living happily together in the tower. I kind of hate this, but I spent so long writing it so here it is.
In pre-school, you were obsessed with the song in your head. Your parents told you it was a secret song that only you and your soulmate knew the words to. Even just the idea of having someone out there who would love you no matter what sounded magical, let alone this song that connected you.
When you started high school, you found out what the song actually meant. Not only were the words known only by you and your soulmate, but they explained your love story. Or at least, a part of it. There's no telling what aspect of- or time within- your relationship the song is about.
Given the lyrics of your song, you were immensely nervous about meeting your soulmate. So much so, in fact, you refused to tell anyone the lyrics to your song, claiming it was meant for you and your soulmate to share together.
Now, as an adult, the song almost never crossed your mind. You had gotten tired of trying to spin it in a more positive light. You have never met anyone else who had a song that was as angsty as yours. We got a love that is hopeless and it'll never be enough just don't scream happy ending. As a teen, you convinced yourself it was just a hurdle you and your soulmate would have to overcome. But with time came experience, and your life experiences definitely weighed down that opinion.
Plus, you were heading into your late twenties and still had no clue who your soulmate could even be. Almost everyone you'd gone to high school and college with already found there perfect person. So, you chose not to think about it. If you ignored it, you could pretend it didn't matter.
From the minute he understood soulmate songs, Steve Rogers hated them. Bucky was the only one who ever understood why. Granted, Bucky was the only one Steve ever told about not having a soulmate song. To Steve's surprise, Bucky confessed he also didn't have a soulmate song. It only made their friendship stronger to both be missing something everyone else seemed to have.
When Bucky fell from the train, Steve figured that must be why he didn't have a soulmate song. So when it came time, and he needed to crash the jet into the ocean, he didn't think twice. It was easier to believe that was why he never had a song. He was destined to die in order to save others. Nobody should be put through losing their soulmate like that. It was better that he didn't have one.
Seventy years later, he woke up. And he had a song.
Meeting the Avengers was definitely a life altering moment for you. The six of them had just saved New York from an alien invasion and now you were working with them. Your experience in public relations made it easy for Pepper Potts and Tony Stark to hire you to manage the public image of the team.
Thankfully, they generally made it easy for you to help them. There was a lot of mess to sweep up, but the whole team was willing to put in the work to help. You became like family to them, always willing to be on call since some of the press you had to handle were in different time zones.
Eventually, Tony offered you a room in the tower. It just made sense to avoid the commute since you spent so much time there anyway. Plus, Tony thoroughly enjoyed being able to tell you to "go to your room" once the workday ended.
That's how you ended up spending so much time with Steve Rogers. Captain America was quite the public figure in the 40s, but the media circus had grown pretty exponentially during his time in the ice. Once he managed to understand you weren't asking him to be a dancing monkey, he actually appreciated all the work you put in to make their lives easier.
Your friendship continued to grow as you spent more time together. Every movie night, you'd sit a little closer together until, eventually, you were cuddled up under the same blanket. You'd invite Steve for lunch during the week, and he'd always bring you to brunch after his Sunday morning runs.
Six months later, Steve officially asked you out. With Wanda's help, he managed to make a completely charming picnic for the two of you in a park near the Brooklyn Bridge. You couldn't remember the last time you smiled so much in a single day. Steve felt exactly the same, feeling for the first time like he was actually beginning to fit into the modern age. Everything was so perfect, you scolded yourself for not seeing the other shoe until after it dropped.
Every website or news channel you looked at had a story of Steve Rogers dating the Avengers' PR rep. Although the two of you had done nothing wrong, the entire country seemed to turn it into some big scandal. Everyone wanted to know if Captain America found his soulmate or just someone to keep his bed warm. The only reason it faded so quickly from the public eye was the emergence of the Winter Soldier.
Steve Rogers being on the run from SHIELD definitely trumped his picnic date in the eyes of the media. The entirety of the weeks events left you a mess in terms of PR, but thankfully everything worked out. Hydra was stopped, and Steve got his best friend back.
Your own relationship with Steve faltered a bit in the months after Bucky's return, but you couldn't bring yourself to be upset with Steve. The situation, sure, but not Steve. He had so much going on with trying to help Bucky remove the trigger words. It took weeks to even find someone who thought they could do it, and that ended up taking the two super soldiers across the world.
He updated the team every few days, but he was so focused on helping Bucky, he didn't actually have much time to talk. Despite the abundance of technology in Wakanda, you'd never felt less connected to Steve.
Your entire schedule was thrown off. You no longer had a go to lunch buddy or Sunday brunch plans. Movie nights got just a bit colder without the body heat from your favorite super soldier. Everything just felt a little bit off.
After seven long months, Steve and Bucky returned to the tower. Unfortunately, your relationship didn't pick up where it left off. Bucky needed time to get acclimated to his new life, and Steve was always willing to be there for him.
Again, you didn't fault Steve for his behavior. How could you? He spent nearly every waking moment trying to help Bucky feel more at home in the tower, but also in the new century they found themselves in.
Just seeing Steve in passing was enough to get your heart racing these days. When you heard the sound of his voice coming from the kitchen, it was like your body involuntarily chose to stop and listen. You were so focused on just hearing him talk that it took a few minutes to actually understand the words.
"You have a song now?" The question gave no indication of how he was feeling in the moment.
"Yeah..." Bucky sheepishly replied. "I don't know when it started. Just, showed up one day, I guess." His tone of voice got lighter with each word he spoke about the song, going so far as to sign a few words. "Be my summer in a winter day, love... You still don't have one?" Despite not knowing him that well, you could hear the hesitation in his voice when he asked the question.
"I... No," Steve sighed. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
Everything they said after that went in one ear and out the other. You may not like your song per se, but at least you had one. You had never heard of someone not having a soulmate song before. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. Everyone had a song...
"Y/N? Are you okay?" Suddenly, Steve and Bucky were in front of you. They must have finished whatever they were doing in the kitchen without you realizing.
"Huh? Oh, um, yeah. Just lost in thought I guess," you laughed.
"Are you sure?" Steve questioned further, looking at you with concern.
"Yeah. I'm good," you smiled, nodding your head as if that would convince him. Before you could turn to walk away, Steve lightly grabbed your hand. Bucky was convincing him to say something, but you had missed the silent glares and nudges in your efforts to pretend you weren't eavesdropping.
"Hey, are you busy later?" he smiled nervously, thumb rubbing across your wrist.
"I don't think so. My last meeting just ended, so it's just wrapping up a few loose ends, and I'm done for the weekend."
"Would you maybe want to have dinner with me?" Steve seemed to notice the shock on your face before you could even comprehend his question. "To catch up, ya know? We haven't been talking much, and I just thought maybe dinner would be nice," he rambled.
"Dinner would be great, Steve." Suddenly, the memory of the media circus that was your last date crossed your mind. Again, Steve must have seen your thoughts on your face.
"I figured we could do something small. Movie night?" Again, his smile betrayed his nerves.
"That's perfect. The usual time?" He nodded his confirmation, his slightly awkward wave goodbye making you smile.
And just like that, it was like things hadn't changed at all... sort of. You and Steve were back to your routine before your date. Movie nights, lunches, Sunday brunch. Sometimes Bucky would tagalong as well. Before long, the two of you were nearly as close as you and Steve.
If anything, seeing Steve with Bucky made you like him more. He just seemed more himself in a way, like having an anchor to his past made it that much easier for him to exist in the present. You were thinking about exactly that when Steve came knocking on your door.
"What's up?" You leaned against the open door, gesturing that he was welcome to come inside. When he took you up on that offer, you swung the door closed and followed him over to your bed. You were a little thrown off by his silence.
"Are you okay?" you asked. He looked at you briefly before averting his gaze, nervously twisting his fingers together. "Steve?" you asked, your concern showing through. You sat next to him, taking one of his fidgeting hands in your own. Your other hand brushed against his cheek, turning him to face you. "What is it?" Your heart was beating so fast, you thought you might explode.
He scoffed at himself, the self deprecation easily showing through. "I don't know why this is so hard for me," he spoke, taking your hand from his cheek in his free one. You wanted to ask what he was talking about, but you didn't want to push. You had a pretty good idea of it already, and it was terrifying.
"Steve..." you said his name with so much affection, he closed his eyes and let it wash over him.
"Y/N..." he returned the sentiment. "I... Would you like to date me?" You stared wide eyed, caught off guard by how straight to the point he was. Steve was a rambler when he spoke about his feelings. His own eyes widened, as if shocked the statement actually came from his lips.
"Dammit! I'm sorry. I had a whole thing planned." He had begun pacing back and forth in front of your bed, leaving you to watch him move back and forth." I was going to tell you how I feel, not just blurt it out. Why can't I ever get one thing-"
"Yes," you answered, cutting off his rambling with a soft smile. His eyes snapped back to yours, a disbelieving look on his face.
"Yes?" he questioned. You nodded in response, letting him come to terms with everything not going as planned, but turning out just as he'd hoped. "Yes," he finally smiled- a wide grin- before walking back to you. In no time at all, he had you wrapped in his arms, spinning around your room.
"Steve!" you shouted, unprepared for the lack of ground beneath your feet. He placed you delicately back on the bed, kissing each of your hands before rising.
"Dinner tomorrow?" Once again, you nodded at his question. "I'll pick you up at 7."
You were both smiling as he backed out of your room, only cutting off eye contact when he nearly tripped over an ottoman. "Tomorrow," you said wistfully.
"Tomorrow." Steve confirmed, his own tone matching yours.
The second you could no longer hear his footsteps retreating down the hall, you face planted into your pillow and squealed. You felt giddy. Your relationship with Steve was a long time coming and you couldn't put into words just how excited you were. Sleep did not come easily after that.
The next day passed in a blur. You could barely pay attention to your work as thoughts of Steve ran through your head. You were so excited to go out with him again, but your nerves grew as you remembered what happened last time you made a public appearance.
It was definitely not ideal for the PR manager to be splashed across the headlines. Even if it was only tabloids. You didn't have much time to think about it, however, because by mid-afternoon you were whisked away from your desk.
Nat and Wanda pulled you through the tower, eagerly leading you back to your room. It seems news of your date had travelled, and the two of them were beyond excited to help you get ready- despite your protests that it was a work day and four hours seemed a bit too much time.
"Nonsense. You and Steve have been towing this line for ages." Wanda grinned at you. "We won't let it go wrong because of a few work hours. Tony will understand."
You nodded, nervously biting your lip as the potential headlines flashed through your mind again. Would Tony understand his PR manager being the talk of the town? Would Pepper?
Before you could voice your concerns, Natasha was pushing you into the bathroom to try on the outfit they laid out. You were surprised to see your favorite ripped jeans waiting for you, but you put them on nonetheless. They had paired the jeans with a black shirt and a black denim jacket you had never seen before. Parts of the denim had been removed, replaced with a flowery mesh.
The second you were out of the bathroom, Nat and Wanda were pushing accessories and shoes into your hands. "I have to admit, this is not the vibe I thought you'd go for," you questioned them with a raised brow as you finished putting on your combat boots.
"Steve may or may not have given us a heads up." Wanda smirked. You looked between her and Nat, rolling your eyes that they knew where you were going when you didn't. You would have questioned them about it, but a knock on your door cut you off.
You were surprised to see it was already 7, and Steve was waiting for you on the other side of the door. You let your worries slip away, knowing they would only serve to upset your evening. With one final steadying breath, you opened the door.
You and Steve simply stared at each other, neither making a move. It was as if you were both frozen, simply taking in the other person. As Steve eyes roamed your outfit, you couldn't help but take in his own outfit.
You had to admit, he looked incredible. Seeing him in the familiar leather jacket was normal, but it never failed to make you swoon. The blue henley, however, couldn't help but spark thoughts of Bucky helping him choose what to wear. You let out a disbelieving chuckle at the idea of both of your friends dressing you.
The noise seemed to startle Steve into motion. He gestured for you to join him in the hallway, both of you ignoring the snickering coming from the two women in your room. He gently placed his hand on your lower back, the textured flowers pressing lightly into your back through the thin material of your shirt.
"You look incredible," Steve glanced at you. "I don't think I've ever seen this jacket before," he grinned, likely having the same thought you just had.
"It is new," you confirmed. "You look handsome as ever. I have to say, the blue henley really brings out your eyes." His laugh was like music to your ears.
"I'll have to tell Bucky you approve." The faint blush that dotted his cheeks had you even more giddy than before.
"I'll convey the same message to Nat and Wanda," you winked, again earning a chuckle. It was as if all the nerves had left your body and you were simply spending the evening with your best friend. All of the worrying and anxiety seemed pointless now that you were actually with him.
Unsurprisingly, Steve lead you to his motorcycle. You had never mentioned to him how much you loved riding with him, but you suspected he had some sort of idea. Or maybe he enjoyed it as much as you. Either way, you climbed on behind him, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist and stretching your neck to place your chin on his shoulder.
He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the familiar feeling. It had been far too long since the last time you rode together. You pressed a light kiss to his cheek as he pulled out of the parking garage before leaning slightly back to enjoy the feeling of the wind on your skin.
Steve took you to a tiny diner in Brooklyn, somewhere the two of you had been before. It felt so natural, you nearly forgot the outing was an actual date. It was so easy to talk with Steve, you found yourself pestering him with questions about Wakanda, answering his own questions about your time apart as well. You spent hours in the diner, just talking like you used to.
"I've missed this," he spoke suddenly as the two of you were leaving the restaurant, making your way back to Steve's bike.
"I know, they have the best french toast," you goaded, grinning even more when he rolled his eyes.
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Steve spun you around, his hands on your hips pressing you slightly into his bike from his proximity. "I've missed you. Our lunches and weekly brunch. The snuggling during movie night. Just being together," he whispered, leaning closer to you with each word.
Your throat was suddenly dry, your voice raspy as you replied. "I've missed you too." As if on their own accord, your hands had wrapped themselves around Steve's neck, pulling him even closer.
You both felt the pull as you leaned in, your lips barely brushing when the sound of tires screeching across the road startled you. Steve spun you behind him, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger. He relaxed when he realized it was just a car slamming on their brakes to avoid running a stop sign and hitting another car.
He let out a deep sigh, turning back to you with an apologetic look. "It's okay," you smiled reassuringly before pressing a kiss against his cheek. "Let's go home."
Steve nodded, quickly kissing your forehead before getting on the bike and signalling for you to do the same. You were pretty sure you heard him grumbling something about people learning how to drive, but you kept your giggling silent. Of course, being pressed up against Steve on the motorcycle did little to cool you down after the near steamy moment.
The night had gotten cooler as the sun set, encouraging you to squeeze closer to Steve. You hands tucked themselves in between his shirt and his jacket. The warmth radiating from him quickly warmed up your cold fingers, leaving you to feel the way his abs tightened when your hands shifted.
The ride back to the tower ended far too quickly for your taste. You would have spent the next hours pressed to Steve's warm back if he had let you. Instead, you found yourself standing next to him in the parking garage watching as he put the helmets away.
"I'll walk you to your room?" His offer received a nod from you, eager to spend any additional amount of time with him. His hand on the small of your back felt electrifying, even more so than earlier in the evening. You relished in the touch, eager to relive the moment from earlier.
When you reached your room, you paused with your hand on the door. Biting your lip, you turned around to look at Steve. He was closer than you expected, his eyes taking in the way you tugged your lip between your teeth. Once again, your throat was dry. You couldn't stop the raspiness in your voice when you spoke.
"I had fun tonight," you whispered, not missing the way his eyes flickered to your lips again.
"Me too," he whispered in return, not wanting to break the moment. He stepped closer, your bodies nearly touching when your hand fell from the door knob as you turned completely to face him. You both leaned in at the same time, your lips meeting briefly before returning with more pressure.
Your left hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as your right hand pulled him in by his jacket. Steve pulled you to him as well, one hand tangled in your hair and one squeezing your hip. The two of you were as close as possible and yet it was still not close enough.
Your not sure how long you stood there, back pressed against the door to your room, but eventually the two of you needed air. Your each parted just enough to breath, your foreheads still pressed together as you tried to calm your racing heart. When you finally caught your breath, and managed to meet Steve's eye, you were certain you were about to go another round when the sound of a throat clearing jolted you apart.
Tony stood at the other end of the hallway, a smirk playing on his lips. Before either of you could tell him off, Tony held up a hand. "It's a public hallway." Tony defended himself as he walked closer.
"In the middle of the night..." you countered eyes wide in confusion. Why would he interrupt you for no reason?
"Tony, why are you here?" Steve sighed, one hand reaching to take your own as if the idea of not touching you was too much for him to handle at the moment.
"Bad news I'm afraid. I thought you'd want to see it as soon as possible." The look Tony was giving you set you on edge. Although he was answering Steve, it felt like he was talking to you.
"A mission?" Steve questioned, his thumb now rubbing circles on your hand.
"Not exactly." He produced a tablet from behind his back, gesturing for you to take it. You reached for it with your free hand, looking at Steve in confusion. The two of you looked down at the screen together, your mind running wild the second you saw the picture.
You didn't know how to feel. It wasn't anything bad per say, but it wasn't ideal for the whole world to see it. However, you liked the picture. It reminded you of the evening you just shared with Steve, and honestly, you were kind of grateful for the feeling being captured in a photo.
You were leaning slightly against Steve's bike with him standing directly in front of you. His hands had found purchase on your hips, your own wrapped around his neck. Your lips weren't quite touching, but it was obvious that's where it was headed. Or at least, where it would've been headed if not for the screeching car.
The gratefulness didn't last long as you realized the implications of Tony having the picture. "How bad is it?" You squeezed Steve's hand, finding comfort in his presence next to you. Last time this happened it was brushed under the rug by the Winter Soldier. However convenient that was for PR, it was a nightmare to live through. Something told you nothing like that would save you this time.
Tony gave you a comforting smile before responding. "From what I can tell, only the one photo was taken." you breathed a sigh of relief, although it was minor. One photo was bad enough. "Thankfully, the photographer knew he could get more money from me than any media outlet."
The meaning of his words sunk in slowly, but when it fully registered you had to lean into Steve because of the relief.
"Tony... I... Thank you," you whispered. You felt horrible for putting Tony in such a position, especially when it was your job to prevent any scandalous Avengers themed headlines. "Oh my god, it's the middle of the night! Tony, I'm so sorry! After what happened with our picnic I should've known not to-"
"Don't beat yourself up about it. Just be more careful next time." He winked at you before departing, calling out one last time before he was gone, "and have fun!"
You could feel the blush even before you made eye contact with Steve. Of course, the feeling only multiplied afterward. Steve looked just as bashful as you.
"Do you want to talk?" You gestured to your door, offering a safe haven from the "public hallway". Thankfully, Steve nodded. You watched him as he made his way into your room, awkwardly standing in the middle. You sat on your bed, gesturing for him to join you, but he declined.
"Steve? What's wrong?" you asked carefully, honestly a bit scared of the answer. He was quiet for a moment, staring at a spot on the floor. You were about to ask him again when he finally spoke.
"What should you have known not to do?" he mumbled, only increasing your confusion.
"What?" you asked, not understanding the question.
"You told Tony you should've known not to. Not to what? Not to go out with me again?" His voice was wavering, as if he was struggling to reconcile the time you had just spent together with your attitude about the picture.
"Of course not! I'm so, so glad we went out." You could feel the tears burning in your eyes. It felt dramatic, and you were annoyed by them, but it made sense. It was a lot to process. You stood to meet his eye, trying to convey just how much you believed what you were saying. "Steve, that was single handedly the best date I've ever been on. I just should've known to be more careful about what a stranger could see."
"Oh..." He glanced at you, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. You could tell your answer has sparked some thoughts for Steve, so you waited for him with a patient smile. "So a secret relationship?"
You smiled nervously. A secret relationship was never something you thought you'd be part of, but for Steve it would be worth it. "Just a secret from the public, not from the team."
He nodded at your words, seeming deep in thought. It was nerve wracking to watch him ponder the idea of having a relationship with you. The longer you waited, the more your anxiety built. Maybe your job just made this too difficult for him. Starting a relationship is already so stressful, having to add the secret part on top of that just makes it that much harder.
"I've never been one for PDA anyway." Steve's words tore you from your negative thoughts. The two of you stared at each other, smiling like children when Steve spoke again. "So, would you like to be my secret girlfriend?" Despite you just saying Steve took you on the best date of your life, he still looked nervous to ask you.
"I would love to be your secret girlfriend, so long as you want to be my secret boyfriend?" you replied, an eager smile on your face.
Steve forewent a verbal reply, choosing to answer your question with a kiss. He poured all of his emotions into it, holding you as close as he could.
You returned the kiss with just as much excitement. It wasn't until the two of you needed to breathe that you separated.
"In case it was unclear, that was a yes." Steve joked, his cheeks betraying his blush.
"Oh good, otherwise you really would've been sending the wrong message," you joked back. Your smile only grew when he rolled his eyes.
"Oh, you're trouble." Steve pressed a quick kiss to your lips before backing away.
"Yeah, but you already knew that," you said with a smirk. Steve simply laughed in response. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Of course. We have our weekly lunches to uphold." Steve kissed you one more time before leaving.
You called a quick goodnight as you shut the door, nearly squealing when you were sure he was out of earshot. Tonight may have had a minor issue, but it was still one of the best nights of your life. After all the problems you and Steve have faced with being separated, finally being able to be together was all you wanted.
How hard could a secret relationship be?
You and Steve kept to your normal routine of eating lunch together and going out on Sundays. It was frustrating not even being able to hold his hand, but the fun outweighed the annoyance. Stealing kisses when nobody was around or texting each other dirty things made the beginning of your relationship interesting.
Plus, you could always spend time together in the residential area of the tower. You still had movie nights, albeit with some kisses thrown in, but you spent even more time with Steve. Whether it was making dinner together, or forcing Sam and Bucky to play a board game with you, the two of you could almost always be found together after work hours. The lack of affectionate time spent outside of the tower didn't bother you because you could spend so much time together inside.
Your life, although not what you pictured, felt perfectly balanced. You didn't realize just how easily that balance could be upended until Tony took over your surprise party for Steve's birthday.
"Y/N, how excited are you for tomorrow?" Wanda burst into your room, two dress bags in her hands.
"I'm excited, Wan. I still think Steve would prefer something small, but small isn't really in Tony's wheelhouse. I should've planned the whole thing and surprised both of them." You both laughed, knowing Tony was never one to turn down a party.
"I need your help." Wanda showed the two dresses she bought, one a long emerald v-neck with long sleeves, the other a black leather mini dress with cap sleeves. "Which one?"
You pictured her in both dresses, imaging the hair style and accessories she'd wear with each. "I like the green."
"Me too! I think Vis will like that one more too." Wanda spoke quickly as she zipped the bags back up. If she wasn't so quick to say "thanks for the help! I have to go find my accessories now" and leave, she might've noticed the shift in your mood. She might've noticed the tie you picked out for Steve sitting on your dresser. She might've noticed when you realized you couldn't actually go to your boyfriend's surprise party with your boyfriend because of one key detail. Secret.
After Wanda left, you only gave yourself five minutes to be upset. You and Steve agreed to keep your relationship private from the public for a reason. It wouldn't do to dwell on what can't happen. For you and Steve to tell the public you were together, he would have to admit he didn't have a soulmate song, and you would have to admit you were ignoring yours.
Ever since he came out of the ice, Steve Roger's soulmate has been the question people ask. Was it Peggy? If not Peggy, was it someone else from his time? Would he ever know who it was?
You know the truth. It's clear why Steve never talks about it. Especially if Bucky has a song and didn't used to. Talking about it would only serve to hurt him. You didn't mind ignoring your soulmate song. The familiar lyric of hopeless love was all it took to cast it from your mind.
So instead, you focused on Steve. You were ready for the party 3 hours before it began, not hesitating to help set up any decorations or equipment that still needed setting up. You were there to greet everyone who arrived before Steve, scolding Tony when guests arrived before him.
You were there when Steve walked in with Bucky. His eyes seemed to scan the room, stopping only when they found you. Turns out you didn't need to give him a tie. He already picked one out in the perfect shade of blue to compliment his eyes. The exact shade of blue you chose to wear for that very reason.
His eyes roamed your body, only being drawn away when the entire room shouted "surprise!" His reaction appeared to happen in slow motion, the confusion slowly giving way to understanding and appreciation.
He was making his way toward you, greeting and thanking anyone who stopped him to talk. At this rate, it would take the entire party for him to find you. Just before you could walk to him, a group of agents cornered him.
They were young, fit, excited about the world agents. The questions came faster than Steve could answer. You both knew it would be too suspicious for him to abandon the conversation simply to greet you. Instead, you gave him an encouraging smile and turned toward the bar.
Three drinks in, Steve found you.
"Hi," you greeted him with a warm smile, but he could see the disappointment in your eyes. You could see the regret in his, speaking up before he got the chance. "Don't you dare apologize. We signed up for this."
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "We did. I guess I'll just have to wait until we're alone to tell you how beautiful you are." His words caused a giddy smile to erupt on your face. Even after months of being together, Steve never failed to give you butterflies.
"Are you enjoying your party?" you asked, eager to change the subject for fear of doing something reckless.
"I am, it's wonderful." It was clear he believed the words, but you could tell it wasn't what he wanted to say. One look from you and he was spilling the truth. "If I'm honest something smaller would've been fine."
You sighed, having expected just the same. If it was a smaller party, you and Steve could have attended together. "That's what I told Tony, but you know how he gets. Bigger is better, and his friends deserve the best." You both laughed, enjoying the brief moment together.
"Dance with me?" Steve interrupts the silence. Seeing the look on your face, he continues, "Just one dance? Nobody will say anything about one dance with the birthday boy."
Rolling your eyes, you can't stop yourself from smiling. "Fine, one-" Before you can even finish the statement, Steve is whisking you to the dance floor. Just as you made it to the edge of the dance floor, the music shifted. The modern party music was left behind for some classic 40s.
You couldn't help but laugh as you and Steve spun around the dance floor, the words to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy echoing in your ears. By the time the song was fading out, you were nearly out of breath. The combination of Steve swinging you around the room and the never ending laughter had you in stitches.
"And here I thought you couldn't dance?" you teased, laughing even more when Steve had the audacity to look shocked.
"I have no idea what you mean. One more?" he asked. You knew you were toast. You couldn't say no to those eyes.
"You're lucky it's your birthday," you huffed, already putting your hand back on his shoulder in preparation for the next song. Steve gripped your waist as the familiar opening lyrics to Dream a Little Dream of Me sounded through the room. It wasn't the slowest song in the world, but everyone was taking advantage of the break to just sway together.
You shifted your grip, placing both hands behind his neck. It took everything in you to not rest your head on his shoulder. Instead, you looked into his eyes, hoping you could convey everything you wanted to say with just your eyes.
You could feel the distance between you decreasing as the song continued, but you didn't have the willpower to do anything about it. You wanted to be close to him, and he wanted you close. It wasn't until the song tapered out and Bucky was asking to cut in that you realized just how close you were to blowing your secret.
"Happy birthday Steve," you whispered, chancing one more look at his face. His expression mirrored your own. A sense of longing mixed with resignation. There was nothing you could say as Bucky whisked you back onto the dance floor as an upbeat song you didn't recognize began to play.
Eventually, the party died down, leaving only residents of the tower in the room. Steve dragged you back onto the dance floor, swaying with you despite the upbeat melody. He held you close, and you relished the feeling. For the first time in years, a lyric from your soulmate song popped into your head.
Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor?
You quickly brushed the thought aside. There was no use thinking about it when you knew Steve didn't have one. You're happy with Steve. There's no point focusing on what will only cause you both pain.
You stayed on the dance floor for a few more songs until you heard the tell tale signs of trouble brewing. Tony was dragging the karaoke machine over to the lounge area, ranting about how nobody has been using it.
"I spent $1,000 on this, and we are going to use it dammit!" he ranted. Even mildly drunk, Tony could set up a simple karaoke machine. You could hear everyone telling Tony that $1,000 is nothing to him, but he wasn't hearing it. "Everyone is singing! That includes you two!" Without lifting your head from Steve's chest you knew he was talking about you.
"Come on, let's just appease him," you said to Steve, pulling him over to the lounge. You graciously accepted the drink Nat handed you. "I'm gonna need this if Tony really forces us all to sing."
And force you to sing he did. Tony started things off with a rousing rendition of Back in Black surprising absolutely nobody with his choice of song.
Thor was so eager to participate in another "Midgardian activity" he let Tony choose his song. You all laughed and drank as he belted out the words to Bonnie Tyler's Holding out for a Hero.
Thor set a dangerous precedent, giving Tony the idea that he could choose everyone's songs. Wanda sang Baby One More Time, Bruce We Didn't Start the Fire. Clint joyfully sang Fancy Like, having Nat record it so he could send it to his kids. Sam somehow managed to convince Tony to let him sing Marvin Gaye. Nat forcefully moved Tony out of the way, choosing abcdefu to keep the party going.
Everyone was drinking and laughing, actually enjoying themselves now that the rest of the guests had left. Bucky glared the whole time he sang, but he and Steve managed to stutter their way through Alive by One Direction and Cold as Ice by Foreigner, respectively.
By the time it was your turn, everyone was wasted. It wasn't often the whole team got to relax like this, so it was nice to see everyone cutting loose. Tony pulled you up to the machine, overestimating the force required or underestimating his strength. Either way, the two of you crashed into the karaoke machine, knocking it over the railing.
You briefly looked over the edge, wincing at the various pieces that machine was now in. Tony, in his drunken state, looked devastated. You assumed he was upset about the broken machine, but he quickly showed what was upsetting him.
"You still have to sing!" Your eyes widened at his volume, but you didn't have much time to protest. Suddenly the whole room was agreeing, various statements about how "it's only fair" or "everyone else did."
"Okay, okay!" you shouted over everyone else. "I'll do it." You were far too drunk to regret any of your decisions, so you just started singing the first song that popped into your head. Everyone else was too busy cheering, they didn't realize none of them actually knew the song. Well, none but one.
When you hold me in the street
And you kiss me on the dancefloor
I wish that it could be like that
Why can't it be like that?
Cause I'm yours
We keep behind closed doors
Every time I see you I die a little more
Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls
It'll never be enough
It's obvious you're meant for me
Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly
You didn't notice as the mood died down, to caught up in pouring your heart out to even realize you were singing your soulmate song. Everyone was enjoying the song, albeit they assumed you chose it because of your secret relationship with Steve.
Why can't you hold me in the street?
Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor?
I wish that it could be like that
Why can't it be like that?
Cause I'm yours
Why can't I say that I'm in love?
I wanna shout it from the rooftops
I wish that it could be like that
Why can't we be like that?
Cause I'm yours
You finished the song to more cheering, although Steve remained motionless. Even after it was over, you didn't realize what had happened. You were so relieved to have let go of the feelings you were holding in that you did the one thing you swore you would never do.
"I've never heard that song before, Y/N! Who sings it?" Wanda asked, jolting you back into reality. Everyone was looking at you expectantly, but you didn't have an answer. You didn't want to tell them it was your soulmate song. You already killed the mood with the song, no reason to dampen it even further by admitting the truth.
"I don't remember!" You knew you sounded crazy, but you were hopeful the alcohol would make everyone forget. "I'm pretty tired, so I'm gonna head to bed. Happy Birthday!" You pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek on the way out, unable to even look him in the eye. He simply stared as you left, having a hard time believing what he just heard.
You had fallen asleep as soon as you laid down, and when you woke up last night felt like a dream- or more accurately, a nightmare. Your only hope was to pretend like it never happened and pray everyone else was too drunk to remember. Unfortunately, your bubble of hope was popped almost immediately after you woke up.
"Y/N!" Wanda excitedly ran to you when you entered the kitchen, "please tell me you know who sings that song!" You panicked as everyone turned toward you.
"What song?" you questioned, looking confused as you took a seat. If hope wouldn't do, pretending you forgot was your best bet.
"The one you sang last night," Nat answered for her, eyeing you suspiciously.
"Oh, um... who sings that song..." You pretended to be thinking, all the while considering moving to Albania and starting a new life. You glanced at Steve, but couldn't keep your eyes on him.
"Do you at least know what it's called?" Wanda smiled hopefully, only adding to your guilt.
"Secret Love Song," you answered with no hesitation, eyes widening when you realized she was going to google it. In high school, during your "it's only an obstacle we'll have to work through" phase, you started calling it your secret love song.
"That's weird. I can't find it online." Wanda pouted just as the subtlest of smirks formed on Nat's lips. You couldn't take it. There was no way to hide this from them. Of course it's not online, only two people in the world know the song- and it doesn't even really have a name! You dropped your face into your hands, mumbling under your breath in an effort to avoid the embarrassment this would cause.
"Oh my god!" Thor suddenly exclaimed, feeling as though he figured something out. "You wrote it, didn't you? You are very talented Lady Y/N!"
Your head snapped in his direction, wondering how good of an out that would be. It was clear from everyone else's expressions they knew the truth, though. "I didn't write it, but thank you for believing in me Thor." With a deep sigh, you rose from your seat at the island. "It's my soulmate song."
It was clear nobody knew what to say, so you saved them the trouble. "I know it's pretty sad for a soulmate song, but I got over it a long time ago. No need to feel bad for me." You shuffled toward the exit, still talking so nobody could express their sorrow for you. "I'm just gonna go... do something."
With a wave of your hand, you practically ran from the room. You knew they would want to talk to you about it, but you didn't have it in you. Of course these people are practically your family, but that would only make their pity feel even worse.
Maximizing your efforts to avoid the impending conversations, you packed a bag and messaged Tony that you needed to cash in some days off. Just a week and you'd be back. The team could manage not to cause any major PR problems for that long, right? Your only real problem was Steve.
You knew it wouldn't be fair to him to just leave, but the idea of talking to him after singing your soulmate song while knowing he doesn't have one sounds like the eighth circle of hell. You could write him a note, but it felt too impersonal. You struggled with your decision, ultimately deciding to pack the car and then figure out what to do. Of course, nothing works out like it's planned.
You opened your door to leave, but froze in place at the sight of the man who has your heart. Steve's fist was raised as if he was about to knock. You both stared, neither knowing just what to say in the moment. Then, Steve's eyes shifted from your face to the duffle bag over your shoulder.
"Where are you going?" he asked, his face adorably scrunched in confusion.
"Oh, um... I need a few days off. I'll be back next weekend," you muttered, looking anywhere but his face.
"Were you going to say goodbye?" He sounded so hurt, it only made you feel even more guilty.
"I... I don't know. I was going to put this in the car and then decide," you feebly replied gesturing to the bag. "Steve, I'm so sorry." You still refused to look him in the eye, too afraid of the sadness you might see in his baby blues.
"I'm so, so sorry. I feel horrible. I never meant to do that to you. I... I overheard you talking to Bucky before you asked me to dinner. I know you don't have a soulmate." You could tell just by the way his stance shifted that he had something to say, but you barreled through with your ramblings. "I have never told anyone the lyrics to my song before. You can probably see why." You words were accompanied by a resigned laughter.
"To sing that song and remind you that there's someone out there who's meant for me- even if it might be a difficult relationship- knowing you don't have a song was so awful of me. I should've known better. I know we were drinking, but that's no excuse." Try as you might, you couldn't stop the tears you felt building. Your throat burned. Your vision went blurry. "I... I'm sorry."
You closed your eyes, trying to calm your breathing. The sound of your blood pumping in your veins echoed in your ears. You had no idea if Steve was even still standing in front of you.
"Y/N..." He took your hands in his, surprising you enough that your eyes flew open. "I do have a song," he said softly. He looked just as upset as you, albeit his tears were merely welling in his eyes at this point.
"Wha- what? But... but you told Bucky..." you sputtered, the confusion you were feeling increased as Steve slowly slid the bag off your shoulder. He guided you further into your own room, gently encouraging you to sit on your bed. He kneeled in front of you, wiping your tears as they fell.
"I told Bucky I didn't have a song because his was so happy. I didn't want to weigh down his mood with my song." He moved to hold your hands in his, gently rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your hands.
"You have a sad song too?" You hated to admit it, but somewhere deep inside of you, a flicker of hope started growing. He nodded, drawing a small notebook from his pocket. You watched as he opened to a specific page and handed you the book.
"This is from last year. I... I wanted to take you out because there was this new movie showing, and I just knew you would love it. But I couldn't. We're only a couple in the confines of this tower, and even that can be interrupted. So I saw it with Bucky and I wrote down all the parts I thought would make you laugh."
Your tears renewed themselves, although this time from the overwhelming love you were feeling. He flipped the page slowly, showing another entry.
"This one is from when that new tapas restaurant opened around your birthday. I wanted to take you there and celebrate. So, I dragged Bucky out with me and wrote down all the things I thought you would want to try."
He flipped through the pages, various date activities he wanted to do with you outlined in the book. They ranged from all day activities like ice skating and looking at the holiday decorations to little things like being able to hold your hand when you got coffee together. Eventually, he landed on the last page of the book.
"This one is from a few days ago. Tony said he was having a fourth of July party, and I wanted nothing more than to ask you what color you were wearing so we could match. So we could actually do something together around other people." He shook his head as a light laugh escaped his lips. "I guess the matching part worked out anyway." You nodded your reply, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak.
"When Bucky stole you away on the dancefloor at the party... all I could think about was my song. I spent the rest of the night wondering if you were thinking the same thing... and then you sang it right to me."
You were still crying, far too emotional to even try to contain the tears, but now your smile was shining through. A smile that definitely told Steve how exstatic you were at hearing his confession.
"I tried to tell you last night, but you fell asleep so quickly. And this morning I didn't want to just blurt it out over breakfast. And then you admitted it to everyone, and I was trying to leave to come tell you, but they kept saying you probably wanted space! It took me this long to realize I could just tell them I was going for a run and come up here instead-"
You cut off his rambling with a kiss. Steve, who was still kneeling in front of you, fell backward with the force of your embrace, pulling you down to the floor with him. The two of you were laughing and crying and kissing and far too engrossed in each other to realize the rest of the team had come to check on you after Tony asked what your message was about.
"I love you," you whispered between kisses, still laying on top of Steve on the floor.
"I love you too... soulmate," Steve whispered right back. Everyone else backed away as Nat slowly pulled the door shut. The two of you deserved your privacy.
"Soulmate... that's so much better than secret boyfriend," you beamed. You couldn't hold your smile back long enough to kiss Steve, so you buried your face between his neck and his shoulder.
"Definitely better than secret girlfriend," he confirmed, a slight nervousness to his voice. You pushed away from him to ask, but the words were already escaping him. "Does that mean we're secret soulmates now?"
You couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of joy and love escaping as you rapidly shook your head no. "No! It was only a secret because the whole world would crucify us for being together if we weren't soulmates. I mean, there will still be a story, but it will definitely be positive now. We could come right out and tell everyone, or just go about our lives and let them figure it out. Oh! We could-"
It was Steve's turn to cut you off with a kiss. He held you close, not really needing to do much as gravity was still holding you to him. "Let's not talk about work right now. I just want to be with you without all of this weighing us down." You agreed, pressing a quick kiss before surprising him by getting up. "Where are you going?"
"Well, I don't know about you, but I didn't eat breakfast." You grabbed your bag from where Steve dropped it, removing the essential things you would need for the day. "Would my soulmate like to accompany me to a breakfast... " you paused dramatically, "in public... with hand holding?"
Steve jumped up from the ground, spinning you around in a very similar fashion to the day he asked you to date him. "I would love nothing more."
Summary: after finding out your boyfriend hates Valentines day, you are determined to find out why, and maybe to change his mind.
Pairing: Mechanic!Steve Rogers x Baker!Reader
Warnings: some angst, mostly fluff, mentions of sexual themes.
a/n: this can be read alone or with this fic.
White littered the sidewalks and the streets, but inside was covered in red and pinks.
You smiled at the heart’s on the window as you stood back, bundled in your heaviest coat. You hold the window marker in your fingers as you tilt your head, inspecting your awfully drawn hearts on the window. Valentine's day was around the corner. You took the holiday of love very seriously. Your boyfriend down the road did not. You cap the marker and push your way inside, shaking off the snowflakes that fell onto your shoulders. Making your way to the office you hang up your coat on the hook, pulling your phone from your pocket. You smile at the text just over the lockscreen photo you had of Steve.
The photo with a smile on his face, cupcake in his hand as you forced him to eat one, not that he could complain.
“Stevie: Have a good day, please don't stay outside for a long time, it’s freezing”
you shake your head but can’t help the smile on your face as you set the phone down. “Oh my cookie lady” you roll your eyes, making your way out to meet the voice.
“Hi Jamie” you smile at the brunette whose eyes follow over your almost empty cases of treats. “No cookies?” he asks as he stands to his full height, looking at you with a smile. You shrug, hands on your hips. “I haven’t made any yet for the afternoon rush” you smile, he nods. “Are you gonna make heart one's for the holiday?” you shrug again, looking at him as you lean on the counter. “Depends” you raise a brow as he looks at you with a smile.
You and Bucky formed a friendly bond, he helped you in many ways, he was practically a big brother. “With?” he asks as you smile. “What do I do for Stevie for Valentine's day?” he laughs then, a full belly laugh as he leans against the counter in front of you. “Oh (y/n)” he shakes his head, looking at you. “Stevie hates the holiday” you frown then.
Bringing it up a few weeks earlier you noted the way he wanted to change the subject as quickly as it came up. “I just want to do something nice for him” you see the way bucky’s eyes soften. “Hey” he speaks up again, looking at you. “I would maybe try bringing it up again?” you sigh,nodding. “I’ll have cookies for you in a few hours,” you make your way back to the kitchen, ignoring the way your heart aches. How could you hate the holiday of love?
You hum along to the radio that plays softly in the cafe. Mixing the dough for the cookies as you place them on the trays. You shut the oven with a soft sigh as you can’t help but think back to the times Steve denied your thoughts of Valentine’s day. He was a hopeless romantic at heart, always bringing you flowers, always walking closer to the road on the sidewalk. He was nothing but a kind lover, you wondered what could bring up the hatred towards the holiday. The bell above the door pulled you from your thoughts, you set the timer quickly. Wiping your hands on the flour covered apron you make your way out to the counter. You smile at Steve who stands with a bag of takeout in his hand.
“Hi there” you smile, leaning on the counter as he sets the bag down, looking down at you. “Hi” he sends you a small smile as you look over at the bag. “Brought you lunch, you forgot it this morning” you sigh looking up at him. “I know I forgot something” you smile, standing up to your full height. “Can we have lunch together or do you have to get back?” he smiles, shrugging off his coat. “My lunch is in there too sugar” you smile, motioning him back to your office.
“Did you like the hearts on the window?” you ask as you wipe your greasy fingers on the napkin, he nods, humming in response. “They’re cute” he shrugs, licking his lips, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “I’m kinda excited to put out a bunch of desserts for the holiday” you smile. He nods again, continuing to eat his sandwich. The sandwich is much more interesting than your conversation about the holiday. “What would you like to do for Valentine’s day?” he sets his sandwich down looking at you.
“Just another day sugar, what we do all the time” he shrugs as you nod slowly. You continue on with your lunch in silence. You never wanted to push him but you can’t help the ache in your heart as he dismissed the holiday and conversation.
“I’m gonna head back to work” he leans down, kissing the top of your head as you nod slowly. “Have a good rest of the day” you smile, kissing his cheek as you send him with a cookie that was cooled and in a small pink and red baggie with hearts on it. You couldn’t help the ping in your chest as he barely noticed. You watch as he’s gone in the matter of minutes from your vision. You notice the regular afternoon crowd on their way in, you push your feelings aside as you plaster the friendly smile on your face. “Good afternoon!” The crowd shuffled in, many ordering coffees and lattes. You hand over the mugs slowly, sending them off to their studies with full bellies of treats and cups of sweetness. Your heart feels full at the few couples who sat together and studied together, smiling as they bounce ideas off one another.
You make your way to the back kitchen again, grabbing the trays of fresh cookies, making sure to box up a few for one of your favorite mechanics.
“Ding ding” you look up at the voice, smiling as you set aside your notepad and pen. You make your way to the counter and smile. “Hi Jamie” he smiles at you, his smile growing as you slide him the box of cookies. “Do you want what is left for the day?” He looks in the case, taking note of the few cookies left, knowing the one with m & m's were Sam’s favorite. “Yeah, go ahead and throw them in, I’ll take them to the grump down the road” you nod, pulling the trays out to set them in the box. “I’m sorry” you look at him, furrowing your brows. “Why are you sorry?” he shrugs, looking at you. “I feel as if I upset you either, it’s just, Steve has a reason for hating the holiday, it’s not you” nodding slowly, you close up the pink box with the heart window on the top. You slide it to him with a smile. “It’s no problem, Buck,” you smile. He nods slowly then, watching your face as you smile at him.
He sends you another soft smile, making his way out of the shop and down the sidewalk to his own place of employment. “Rogers” Bucky storms through the door, looking at Steve who’s laying under a Ford F-150. “Kinda busy Bucky” he yells, hand flying out to grab a tool, falling back under the vehicle. “It’s about (y/n)” following curses as Steve rolls out from under the truck, sitting up slowly as he rubs his forehead. “What do you mean it's about (y/n)?” he looks to his best friend, the one who’s seen him through hell and back.
“That girl is beating herself up about Valentine’s day for god sakes and you haven’t got the decency to tell her?” he points to him, setting the box of cookies down to Sam. Steve sighs then, looking between his two friends. “I am just- I don’t know how to tell her” he shakes his head, standing up and wiping his messy hands on his jeans.
“I think it's a cop out” Sam mumbles as Steve sends daggers to him. “You both know why I hate that goddamn holiday” he throws the tool in his hand down and into the toolbox at his side. “Yes we do” Sam stands then, wiping his hands off on his pants. “She wants to do something so sweet for you, you are a hopeless romantic for god sakes!” Sam looks at him, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve nods, looking between the two of his friends.
Holding his hands up in surrender, he nods. “I’ll tell her okay, Okay?” he asks as he looks between his friends. They both nod slowly, going back to the box of cookies you sent down with Bucky.
Pushing your hair from your face, you don’t hear the door of the bakery opening. You don’t miss the way your senses fill with Steve’s scent. You were unsure if it was the sugar cookies in front of you or the scent of him. He always smelled of Vanilla but a hint of pine, you blamed that on the laundry detergent he used. “Hey sugar” he smiles, making his way to you as you continue rolling out the cookies onto the tray. “Hey love” you smile, covering the tray in plastic wrap and placing it in the fridge.
“Did you have a good day?” he wraps you in his arms, your back to his chest as you nod, smiling in his arms. You fall into him slowly as he kisses the top of your head. You were a polar opposite to Steve, he was rough around the edges, his rough edges falling around you. As you were nothing but soft and sweet, always ready to help someone and always willing to be yourself.
You bite your lip, your mind was running a mile a minute. You finally turn in his arms, looking up at him. “Can we do something for Valentine’s day?” you ask, he sighs, looking down at you and shrugs. “We talked about this at lunch” you nod slowly, moving away from him as you put your hands on your hips. “You’re right, we did but you blew it off as nothing” you move back to the counter, beginning to throw multiple ingredients into the bowl. “Hey” he speaks up, moving closer to you as you turn to him, flour littered your face, he didn’t notice it before.
You had small specks of flour in your hair, making you have a salt and pepper look as he smiled. “Why do you hate Valentine's Day so much steve? It’s a day of love! Someone who’s such a “hopeless romantic” would love the damn day!” He sighs as he looks over your face. “I-I can’t explain it” you shake your head with a scoff. “I have tried for the last few weeks to pinpoint something” you look at him, hands falling to the side of your mixing bowl. “I don’t know why you are trying so hard” he bites his lip then, looking at you. You nod, “I truly don’t know why I am either Steve” you look at him, he sees the hurt on your face as he sighs biting his lip harder, he can almost taste the copper taste in his mouth.
He hated the look of hurt on your face as you looked at him. He wasn’t ready but he saw the pain on your face. “Just leave please” your whisper pulls him from his thoughts, looking at you. “Baby” you shake your head. “Please” you stare down at the bowl of flour and eggs. Soon the slamming of the door is all that's heard in the quietness of your barkery.
You bite your lip to hold back the tears you held. You never wanted to push him, push him to the point of not being honest. You were frustrated, you wanted to celebrate the one day of love with the one you love, as you had always seen in the movies. Going out on romantic dates and going to the movies and receiving flowers at your job for your coworkers to gush that they wish they had a man like yours. You shake your head as you continue on with the batter in the bowl in front of you, rolling and setting out cookies onto trays. You roll out the dough, biting your lip as you look at the date. February 13th. Tomorrow was the day as you sigh, digging through the drawer for the heart shaped cookie cutter.
You laid the cookies on the tray. Your ears perk up at the sound of your phone ringing. You grab it, missing the caller ID. “Hello?” you smile sadly at the other voice. “Hey honey” Natasha’s voice spoke over the line, a slight concern in her voice. “Hey Nat, what’s up?” you make your way to the fridge, holding your phone to your shoulder and ear. “You aren’t still open?” she asks as you wipe your flour hands on the apron on your body. “No, why?” you ask as she shrugs, knowing you couldn’t see her. “You still have the lights on” you sigh, nodding. “Oh yeah, I’m still here” she nods, sighing. “That was a heavy sigh” you bite your lip. “Men troubles” you mumble as she chuckles.
“I’ll be right in” you hang up the phone with her as you make your way out to the counter. You turn the coffee on as she makes her way in the door. “Were you outside?” you ask as she nods, adjusting her jacket. “I’m doing night shift” you nod at that, sliding the already made coffee over to her.
“Am I being crazy?” you ask as she sips her drink, shaking her head. “You just want to know what the boundaries between the two of you are, that's not crazy” you nod. “I just don’t understand why he feels he can’t tell me, I wouldn’t push and I don’t want to push” she sighs, sitting up and setting her mug down. “What I say you do” you look at her, sitting up in your own seat. “Talk it out, I’m guessing you have a gift for him?” you nod slowly as she looks down at her watch. “I say talk it out” you smile, standing.
“Go get to work Detective” she laughs, nodding and standing. “Good luck!” she says over her shoulder as you wave, locking the door and shutting off all the lights.
For the first time in months, you went home to your own apartment, not going to Steve’s.
You unlocked the door quickly, shivering at the cold winds that made their way into New York. “Hey” you jump, looking back at Steve as he stands in his jacket and the scarf you had bought him at the start of January. “Hey” you smile, pushing the door open allowing him to follow you in. You make your way to the office, turning the ovens on in your travels. “We should talk” you set your things down, looking at him with a smile. “What is there to talk about?” you ask as he steps in front of you, stopping you from avoiding him. “Why I hate Valentine’s day” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest, holding them close to your body, almost hugging yourself. “I hate the holiday so much” he shoves his hands into his coat pockets, he hates how small you made yourself look compared to him.
He sighs, looking down at you, noticing you look as if you didn’t sleep at all the night before. “A few years ago, many now” he continues on, you look up to meet his eye as he continues. “I was in love with a woman, Peggy” you nod slowly, watching him. “To make an extremely long story short, I found her in bed with someone else on Valentine’s day” you bite your lip, looking at him, “oh Steve” he shakes his head.
“It’s not an excuse but I do. I hate the holiday so much” you shake your head with a small smile. “It’s a normal excuse” you make your way to him as you take his hand in yours.
“Thank you for telling me” you lean up, kissing his cheek gently as you smile sadly at him, “You are the kindest man I know and she was absolutely insane for taking you for granted” he smiles, nodding slowly. “I never had someone to celebrate nor wanted too when the day came, even after the events of that night” you nod, smiling. “You are such a hopeless romantic though Stevie” he nods with a soft chuckle. “I am, I just beat myself up around this time” you nod slowly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I know it was not easy to deal with, nor was I easy to deal with, with pressuring you to tell me about it” you shake your head as his hands cup your cheeks.
“You were just wanting to know the truth, it's okay” he kisses your forehead as your eyes fall closed. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, It’s our first official valentines day” you look up at him with a smile as he nods slowly. “I know sugar, I’m gonna make it up to you.” you shake your head with a smile. “Just you being happy is enough for me” he chuckles, kissing your forehead again. “I’m gonna make it special okay?” you nod again with a chuckle. “I’ll come get you after work then okay? I’ll make it up to you” you smile, nodding as he makes his way to the door. “I am a hopeless romantic after all!” he yells as he walks out the door and out of your sight.
“These are so cute” Bucky speaks up at the counter, smiling at the decorated heart shaped cookies in the case. You smile. “Well thank you” you send him a wink, reaching behind you to grab a pre packed box. You slide it over to him as you do many other days. “Happy valentine’s day buck” you smile as he chuckles, looking down in the box at all of his favorite cookies, many others. “Oh doll” he smiles at you, walking around the counter against your protests to pull you into a bone crushing hug. “I appreciate this even if it is cookies” you chuckle against his chest holding onto him.
“Thank you for being a good friend,” you smile. He kisses the top of your head as he makes his way to the door. “Hey” he says. “I don't know if he just got laid but Steve is much more chipper today than he is normally on this day” you scoff, looking at him as he shrugs, “He didn’t get laid” he smirks, pointing at you. “Not yet” you roll your eyes as you wave your hand at him. “Leave before I kick you out” you laugh,
The day seemed to fly by, you packed so many boxes of heart cookies you felt your fingers would bleed. It made you so happy to see the multiple couples who came in, treating their others to one of your cookies. You smile at the last customer, sliding the note into the wrapped box and sliding it to her. “Mrs.Stark, I will need to know if Tony likes them” she chuckles, shaking her head with a smile. “Please call me Pepper, and I think he will” you smile, nodding at her with a smile. “Will do then” you smile. She stops at the door, sending you a wink. “Good luck with your man” you laugh with a blush and nod as you follow her to the door, locking it as she makes her way to her car. You smile and wave to her and quickly make your way to the office. Grabbing your coat, you quickly pull it on and make your way out the door, smiling.
You grab the last box and make your way down the sidewalk slowly, trying to avoid falling on the fresh ice. You smile at the neon sign as it comes into view, it smiles back at you as you make your way inside quickly.
Shaking yourself from the snow you smile, looking around the shop, smiling at the young mechanic working beside Bucky, who rolled his eyes at the teenager. You looked around until you found Steve, he stood from the Subaru he was working on, his hands covered in oil and grime from a day's work, yet he was handsome as ever. You watch as he hadn’t noticed you yet, you grin. You make your way to the office that sits off to the side of the shop, sending Sam and Bucky smiles and holding your finger to your lips in a ‘shh ’ motion. You slip into the office undetected, slipping your coat off and sitting on the desk, crossing your leg over the other as you smile at the voices.
“You guys good to lock up?” Steve asks from outside the door, Bucky and Sam’s voice following. “Absolutely man!” Bucky nods, as Sam nods along in agreement. “I gotta go get cleaned up quick so I can pick up (y/n)” you smile at that. “Oh yeah, any big plans?” Sam asks as he shrugs, looking at his friends who looked like the cats who ate the canary.
“I’m not sure yet, maybe dinner, maybe a nice night for the two of us” he shrugs, he makes his way to the door, hand on the knob as the both send him a smile. He pushes his way into the office, stopping at the sight of you, sitting on his desk, box in your hands. Multiple boxes he didn’t notice at first sight. “Sugar” he smiles, pushing the door closed with his foot as he makes his way to you.
“Hi” you smile, pulling him into you to connect your lips, kissing him slowly. You cup his cheeks holding him closer to you as his body moves between your legs on the desk. “You test me sugar, I’ll make love to you on this desk” you grin, nipping at his lip. He growls then, chasing your lips as you smile. “I don’t think so mister” you grin looking at him. He groans, head falling to your shoulder as he wraps you in his arms. “Happy Valentines day” you whisper, holding the box to him as he stands to his full height. He looks down at the assortment of cookies, smiling. He notes the box, red with a heart window. Cute. He notices a note attached as you watch him.
“I have another but I wanted to give you the one thing I knew how” he looks at you then, smiling. “Cookies” you shrug as he smiles, setting the box down, cupping your cheeks to pull your face close to his, kissing you slowly. “I love them” he whispers against them, smiling. “You got me another?” he asks as you nod, smiling reaching for the other small box, holding it into his arms with a smile. He pulls the lid off, smiling. Staring back at him was a delicate gold chain against the black of the box. “What’s this?” he asks, pulling it out and between his oiled fingers. “You can scan the code” you pull your phone out, scanning the necklace as the soft melody of Taylor Swift's “Love Story” plays from your phone. Steve’s mind can’t help falling back to the memory.
Walking in the kitchen, he stops at the sound of the radio and your voice. He smiles, watching as you sing loudly to the song on the radio, he notes he’s heard it before, Taylor Swift. “Romeo, Take me somewhere we can be alone” you sing loudly, he makes his way to you, clearing his throat. “Romeo huh?” he asks as you laugh, smiling. You take his hands as you continue to sing the song loudly in his kitchen. “This love is difficult, but it's real , don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess” he smiles, doing his best to sing along as he spins you then, pulling you back for your back to fall into his chest as he sways the two of you. You smile, belting out the words loudly. “He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, "Marry me, Juliet You'll never have to be alone” he smiles, kissing your temple as you swayed together. He knew at that moment, you’d be his Juliet forever.
“Do you hate it?” you ask as he shakes his head, looking at you with a smile. “I put it on a necklace so you can have it with you always” you smile as he leans down, kissing you with so much love. Your hands fall to his arms, pulling him closer as you kiss him with just as much love. “I love you” he whispers, his forehead falling to yours as you catch your breath. “I love you too rogers” he smirks, looking at you as he pulls you to connect your lips again. You kiss him with so much love, his heart feels so full.
You smile as you pull away to catch your breath again, looking up at him. His eyes fall to the heart shaped cookies beside you, a smile on his face. You notice his sight, smiling. Something as simple as heart shaped cookies.
“Happy Valentine’s day Sugar” you smile, looking up at him. “Happy Valentine’s day my love” you pull him down to connect your lips again.
If you enjoyed this fic, you can find all my other work here.
summary: steve finds you miserable at peggy’s party.
word count: 2.2k
warnings: drinking, reader accuses steve of being drunk but he isn’t really, not super peggy-positive, reader’s parents have passed away
a/n: NOT ME WRITING A PREQUEL for the oneshot that definitely needs a sequel lol. i’ll get to it one day?? maybe?
this is a period piece, but do NOT assume this reader is white. fellow WOC are more than welcome :)
If you concentrate enough, the shuddering flames and pleasant crackling can command your full attention. Draw it away from the raucous laughter and thudding music beyond the wall, or from your empty heart, you don’t know.
The door cracks open.
The dull heat of the fire hadn’t managed to dry the streaks slashing your cheeks. Your unfocused gaze wanders to Steve, hardening into a stare. The bright lights and glinting wine glasses behind him brighten his pale hair, but the dull orange of the antechamber’s fireplace stains the rest of him. His palm twists the knob back and forth, his bottom lip jutting out. “Why’re you crying?”
“I am not crying,” you say with hardly-convincing grace.
He slips inside the room, the thunk of the kicked-closed door making you flinch. “You’re quite pretty when you cry,” he comments with a subtle grin, stepping around your discarded shoes. The tips of his boots stop an inch from your bare toes.
You stare at his shins. “I ought to slap you, Steven.”
Your eyes jump away when Steve slumps to the ground, cross-legged, pillowing his head on your skirt and practically offering his cheek to you. “Tell me.”
“I won’t tell you while you’re like this.” You settle for tenderly flicking his forehead.
“Ow,” he responds, noncommittally. “Like what?”
“I hate talking to you when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, I’ve been drinking. There’s a difference,” he proclaims, his back bolting upright like a soldier’s.
His hand snatches the armrest at the other end of your cushioned seat, launching himself upward and throwing his feet onto your lap. You scowl, smacking his legs—and then, since he doesn’t budge, unlacing his shoes.
Steve crosses his ankles, draining the last of his alcohol. “I agree with your tears though, this party of Peggy’s is particularly awful. My mother will not have a grand time, cleaning it all up tomorrow morning.”
You nod curtly, carefully weaving a haphazard knot in his leather laces.
“She’s been asking about you,” Steve adds, halfheartedly attempting to swat your mischievous fingers. “There’s a new lemon pastry she wants you to try, I forgot what it’s called.”
Your mouth waters at the thought, as you hadn’t eaten anything since arriving at Peggy's celebration. You hardly remembered the cause for this occasion, but it was apparently not special enough for Sarah Rogers to debut a batch of her newest recipe.
Your hands continue, bridging one shoe to the other by slipping the string over and under and around.
“I think you’d like it,” Steve adds.
The stinging heat building behind your eyelids rivals the fire before you, which has simmered to a few lazy waves. The blackened logs sputter.
You sniffle, and his lighthearted stories continue; with more intention, you think, although his voice only becomes softer.
“I got new watercolors a few days ago. They’re much higher quality, and it doesn’t take me nearly as long to—”
“I’m moving to France, Steve."
You finish the neat bow with a flourish and finally blink at your old friend, feigning nonchalance. A little v-shape forms between his brows, narrowing while he thinks on your announcement. “When?”
As if he didn’t hear you the first time. “Paris.”
The confusion on his face sends your shoulders shrugging. “To teach English.”
Now, you frown. “French children need to learn English.”
“Why all the way across the world?” His calves, still draped over your body, tense into a rigid band when you attempt to rise from your seat. “There must be stupid children everywhere worth enlightening.”
“Don’t call them stupid,” you snap.
His jaw ticks. “You’re already attached,” he accuses, “You’ve already gone.”
“What do you care?” A good shove sends Steve’s boots thunking to the floor. You beat the dirt off the fabric of your dress and huff at him. “You’ll miss me for a month and then never again.”
He glares at you, beginning to rip his threaded laces apart. “You cannot say that as if it’s true. It’s not.”
You laugh to dispel the bitterness inside your mouth before reaching for your shoes. “You have so many friends.” Dozens of people pulling Steve from corner to corner of Peggy’s house, asking his opinion on an important matter and then lightly chiding his inevitably clever response. “What’s one less?”
“You can’t go to France.” He manages to free the boots from each other, yet he continues picking at the tangle with a grunt.
His flame-blue eyes meet yours. “Because I don’t want you to.”
You spin away from him.
It is exactly what you wanted to hear.
Why isn’t it enough?
“Let me go get Peggy, we’ll convince you together—” Steve nearly stomps his foot as you remove your coat from the hook on the wall. “Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry to have ruined your night.” With weariness, you watch him kick off a shoe, tilting toward the firelight to see better. “I’m going,” you say. “You don’t need to follow me.”
— — —
“You’ll come down with a cold!”
You groan. “I’m not a child,” you shout behind you, glimpsing Steve’s silhouette as you march the gentle downslope from Peggy’s home. He wobbles back and forth, yet not out of drunkenness. He’s deliberate, his footsteps landing in the imprints you left on the fresh-fallen snow.
You turn from the ridiculous sight, remembering afternoons where Steve knelt on the ground by this very path, carving out squares with a stick. With rich dirt underneath his fingernails and a smile gracing his face, Steve offered his hand, as gentlemen do, and helped you balance while you played hopscotch all the way to the Carters’ front porch.
How light and simple life had seemed then, your cotton dress billowing in the summer wind instead of being dragged by the snowmelt.
“Leave me alone—”
When Steve catches you, when he cradles you against his chest and swings his heavy cloak onto your shoulders, rubbing feverishly at your goose-bumped arms—you burst into tears.
He shushes you. "I'm right here."
— — —
“She didn’t even wince before telling me about all the beautiful Parisian places I should visit.” You dig your fingers into the loose-fibered blanket on your lap. “That she has these friends who might find me a place to stay.” Grimacing, you let a faint English accent color your mocking tone: “She’ll write to them and ask. She needs to practice her French writing anyway, and this will be a good chance.”
“And?” he asks hesitantly.
“And nothing else.”
You've already gone. If only you could travel back in time to tell Steve how wrong he was.
You couldn’t count the number of times you’d willed Peggy to notice the grammar textbooks you pored over the last few months. Or contemplated starting a conversation about her short-lived girlhood in England, leading to a casual mention of your excursion.
The easiest thing might have been to tell her and Steve simultaneously, but in the face of their joyful company, you always clamped your lips shut for fear of sounding like a dullard, or worse, garnering even more of their pity.
You wanted Peggy's understanding, her approval, even her enthusiasm. But when you finally told her, prior to the party—its instantaneity felt like a dozen pinpricks to your heart.
Steve blows a long puff of air, disturbing the much smaller fire heating his socked feet. He wiggles his toes. “She’s just distracted. She didn’t mean it.” With a distant look and the poker in his palm, he nudges a blazing log closer to your side. “Let me speak to her.”
“No.” You take the metal from him and jab the ashes, feeling foolish. “You’ll only make things worse between us, you always do.”
“What does that mean?”
“You have no tact, Steven.” You bring your knees to your chin, imagining that his clothes must have dried by now. “You may return to the party, if you promise not to speak to her. Or tell her I’ve fallen ill.” You’re anxious for him to return, picturing the offended expression twisting Peggy’s face upon discovering that her two best friends left her party, together and unannounced.
Steve chuckles. “Well, I can’t get drunk over there knowing how sad you are in here.”
You smile, shying when he reaches to readjust the blanket so that it conceals your half-bare legs. “What ever will you do?”
“I’ll stay, if you want.” He lays his head on your shoulder. “Though maybe my inebriated ramblings will only aggravate you.”
At the sound of his mother’s footsteps, you shrug to jostle him away, but his spine has already straightened, and he’s on his feet to help her with the pastries. “I’m sorry my love, they’re better fresh.”
You make playful grabbing motions in Steve’s direction, cooing at the dust of powdered sugar and pristine yellow color when he lowers the platter. “Oh, they’re perfect.” One of them is the perfect size to be consumed within two bites, but you pile the entire thing inside your mouth, humming at the richness of the custard and the crackly layers. “Thank you.”
Sarah pinches her son’s waist for immediately snatching three of the treats. “Would you change anything?” she asks you.
You grin. “More lemon.”
“I knew you would say that.” She lifts the plate from Steve’s hands. “Go get some firewood, son, she’s shivering.”
You weren’t. With a cozy hearth and closely-huddled bodies, the smaller interior of the Rogers’ home created a warmer and more welcoming space—your refuge since the death of your father. That, combined with Steve’s insistence that you’d freeze to death had you not traded the worst of your soaked clothing for a large knitted blanket, and you were sweating.
Your cheeks get hotter at the thought of Steve crouching by your side to help remove your skirt earlier, grumbling good-naturedly about the small ties besting his clumsy fingers. Not even his adoring mother would approve of that scene.
Still, Steve bows obediently before finding his winter clothes and bounding out the back door.
“I overheard,” Sarah says.
You take another bite of pastry, avoiding her blue eyes, a touch more piercing than Steve’s. “He’s right, Peggy must have a lot on her mind.”
“Aye. But so do you.” Sarah sits on an upholstered chair behind you. “I know that faraway look.”
You wrinkle your nose. “What do you think of all this?”
She heaves a sigh, pulling the end of her baking apron onto her lap as you lean against her knees. “I don’t like you going to that cold empty house every day.”
You pinch your tongue between sharp teeth. Your family didn’t leave you with nothing. You had money to spare, recipes to follow and an oven to cook them with. A few relatives lived only three towns north, and would check on you weekly, not that you needed it.
Yet, a few nights each week, you found yourself inside the houses of Steve or Peggy, neither out of necessity nor out of fear of being on your own. Truthfully, you resented the possibility of burdening them, so you diligently assisted in preparing food, making trips to the market, and sweeping the floors.
More than anything, you appreciated the noise. Peggy’s piano-playing, Sarah’s cheerful whistling, and the scratching of Steve’s pencil against paper.
Her impossibly soft hand gives your cheek a firm squeeze. “You know, my Stevie’s willing to give up his room.”
“The Carters offered their extra room, too.” You smile at her, though it quickly blinks out of existence. “But I can’t do that forever.”
“No, you can’t.” She folds forward to kiss the top of your head. “But France is so far, and I’ll miss you so.”
When you wipe away a tear, she pats your shoulder and stands. As she returns to her kitchen, Sarah maneuvers past Steve, armed with several small logs and a flushed face. “Thanks for the sweets, Ma.”
He positions a couple pieces below the dying fire before undressing and reclaiming his place next to you.
You wonder how cold it gets in Paris.
“I’m sorry for how Peggy made you feel,” Steve offers after a moment, using the poker to crush a blistered nugget of wood.
“You didn’t know.” Sighing, you rotate the blanket, deciding that it’s better to share the length of it with Steve, even if your toes are left exposed. “You have never been lonely in your life.”
He laughs, and the sound squeezes your heart with want, and so much jealousy at the ease with which he lets things brush past him. “Only because I have always had a friend like you.”
You are unsure of how to respond. “This is why I hate talking to you when you’re drunk.”
“Because I speak the truth?”
You roll your eyes.
“Do you expect moving across an ocean will make you feel less lonely?” he asks seriously. No hint of sharpness or accusation: a pure question.
“I don’t know.” You pout. Despite the hesitation bubbling inside you, you hug his arm to your chest, so you can rest against his solid weight and rub at his chilly fingertips. “I want to find out.”
Then he’s quiet for a long while, the sound of his even breathing almost soothing you to sleep.
“Would you like to see my watercolors?”
You wish he’d stay like this, but you adore his boyish look too much to disagree as he gets to his feet. “Alright.”
“I’ll paint you an American picture to hang on the walls of your classroom. That way you’ll always be thinking of me. And everyone here.” He nods decisively. “That way you’ll never be lonely.”
angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)
request/prompts: right cut to the chase. I’m leaving tumblr but have 5 prompts which I want you to have cause I trust you and love your writing skills and you may like them Cause they can be angsty or fluff. So here, don’t have to use them but yeah here: 1) “I thought we were friends? And you dis that!” 2) “I DID IT! OK? ITS DONE!” 3) “I thought you were the one, but you weren’t and they were yours” 4) “why did you hurt them?” 5) “what does that have to do with anything…actually no ignore that” - bye bye 👋
pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader
summary: any daydream would be better than your reality.
word count: 2,465
warnings?: angst city™ bitch, not proofread
note: i changed some of the prompts slightly to fit the story; also, you’ve probably left tumblr by now but i hope you’re doing well!!
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Your mother always told you that your head in the clouds, that you were always a million miles away from the real world. It was charming in your youth, or at least that’s what you gathered. Back then, people would remark that they wished they had the same carefree life that your naïveté would allow. When people told you the same thing now, it was always said with what sounded like they had a bitter taste in their mouth, like they were spitting out something rancid. You always wondered why. Why it was such a bad thing for an adult to not spend every waking moment in the agony of reality?
But now...Now, you realized why it was such a bad thing. Because maybe if you weren’t lost in a daydream, you could’ve seen it coming. You could’ve been prepared. You could’ve stopped your heart from breaking. Maybe none of this could have never happened.
You thought you were in love with Steve Rogers. Maybe you were. It was hard to know what your feelings are now. At least, it was hard to know what your feelings are for him now. Ever since he took your heart and broke it to pieces, everything related to him was clouded in hatred. You couldn’t think about him without wanting to hunt him down and yell and scream and fight because he just made your blood fucking boil. Maybe you were in love with him. Maybe that’s why he could still make you feel so strongly, even after everything that had happened.
Steve had come into your life exactly when you needed him to. You had just moved to New York and had gotten a job, working at the Avengers Compound. Nothing big, not an agent or a scientist or anything like that. You were a secretary, and a damn good one at that. You don’t work for the Avengers unless you excel at what you do, even if it’s a position that most people would consider beneath them.
You didn’t make a lot of friends at work, not that there were a lot of people you could’ve befriended. People walked around in cliques. And you were the new kid on the block, and that wasn’t something that was super well-liked. At least, not among the people that you’d met in your first few months of working at the Compound. But Steve...He was different.
He always smiled at you when he walked past your desk. Sometimes he brought you coffee, a muffin if he was feeling really generous. He’d make small talk, take your recommendations for movies and TV shows. After he finished one, he’d always come back and tell you everything he loved about it—even if he hated it. Always found something nice to say.
Sam Wilson swung by your desk one time, after Steve had come by, acting like a giggling teenage girl at a sleepover talking about her newest crush—saying things like Steve liked you, that Steve always talked about you, that Steve had been planning to ask you out for weeks. You refused to believe it, thinking that Sam was making things seem like it was more than it was. No one had ever really liked you like that before, not in the way Sam was describing at least. It seemed like it was just a joke, so that’s how you treated it, laughing at Sam’s antics, denying that Steve could feel anything more than friendship for you.
Maybe you were more starstruck than anything. A man like Steve Rogers could never love someone like you.
(And oh, how right you were.)
But before you could be proved either right or wrong, Steve disappeared. The Avengers were confronted with signing the Sokovia Accords and have the government oversee the team or retire. Steve opposed the Accords and, after his childhood friend Bucky was accused of bombing a UN conference being held to ratify the Accords. After that, he went rogue. And...well, that was all you knew and were allowed to know. The exact details of it weren’t something you were privy to.
You thought you’d never see him again. That’s what you expected. He was a wanted man, but he was also a smart man. He wouldn’t come back to talk to anyone from his life before.
Steve, though, loved to surprise you, it seemed. Whether it be coffee and muffins or him sitting on your couch months after falling off the face of the Earth.
“What the fuck?” you said, your eyes widening as you saw him on your couch. He was the same, but different. His hair was longer now, darker. He’d grown a beard. The way he carried himself was different now. Like he had more demons weighing him down. “You need to get out of here.”
“No, don’t. You need to go. I-I can’t have a criminal in my home,” you said.
Steve rose to his feet, holding up his hands. “I just wanna talk. Please. There’s so much I didn’t get to tell you before—”
“—before you ran off and disappeared? Jesus, Steve, I thought we were at least close enough for you to tell me bye before you left. You know how I had to find out you’d left? The fucking police came knocking on my door, asking if I’d seen you or had heard from you. And I was so fucking confused, because they wouldn’t explain why they needed to know, and then Mr. Stark called, and he said that you, you—”
“Please, Y/N. I can explain everything.”
“I thought we were friends, Steve! And then you did, did that! Acted like I was nothing to you!”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone has a choice.”
“It was Bucky. I needed to make sure he wasn’t killed, because I knew he hadn’t done what they were accusing him of. And it kept getting worse and worse until I hit the point of no return.”
“And yet you still found it in to call Sharon and ask her for help. Why did she get a call and not me?”
“She could help—”
“But how hard could it have been to let me know that you were running off? If Sharon was worth the risk, why wasn’t I?”
“What do you want me to say? I did it, okay? It’s done! I can’t change the past, Y/N. But I can tell you that I’m sorry for the way I did things. You deserved more than how I treated you.” Steve sighed, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry. I really am. Everything that happened...It was so fast. One minute I was at Peggy’s funeral, the next I was dropping my shield. Look, I would do things differently now. We were friends and...I liked you. I really did. I still do.”
God, you hated the way he could make you feel. Because you liked hearing that he liked you. You really, really did. It wasn’t often that someone liked you. Especially not someone like Steve. But, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “What does that have to do with anything?” You paused. “Actually, no. Ignore that.”
“No, I’m not going to ignore it.” Steve stepped closer to you. When you didn’t move away, he took another step. Then another. Then another, until he was standing so close your chests were touching. “I can’t ignore things anymore. I’ve lost so much because I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, do anything. I’m not going to make that mistake again. Life’s too short.”
You shook your head, looking away from him. “So, what would you propose? Assuming I even...liked you back, this couldn’t work. You’re on the run, Steve.”
“When you’re with the right person, you make it work. I think you’re the right person, Y/N. I wanna make this work. I will, if you’ll let me.”
And, god, you really, really wanted to. So, you asked, “Do you promise that you won’t just forget about me?”
“You’re unforgettable. I promise.”
“Then...then, let’s try,” you said.
It worked, the relationship did, in its own way. You didn’t get to see Steve often. But you often got texts from him, all from different phone numbers every time. Sometimes you got to talk to him on the phone. Every so often, you would find a ticket to a plane that would take you to a small town, where Steve had booked an AirBNB for some cabin nestled in the woods just for the two of you. Those times were times that you treasured above all else.
Sometimes, you still dreamed about waking up in his arms. How he’d already be awake, smiling at you. When he’d realize you were awake, he’d press kisses all around your face, before finally kissing you softly. “Good morning, honey bunny,” he’d always say. “I hope your dreams were as sweet as you are.”
On days like that, you got to pretend that you were a normal couple. Wake up together, make breakfast together. Talk about everything and nothing. His hopes, your dreams. Sometimes, you’d ask him about what kind of future he wanted.
“Things would be normal,” Steve would say. “I wouldn’t be on the run. Bucky would be free. We’d have a nice house somewhere. Maybe a kid or two. I’d get to wake up every morning and know that you love me as much as I love you. I’d get to grow old with you. Live a happy life. Everything would be okay. No more fights, just you and me against the world.”
“That’s a nice dream,” you’d say.
“One day, I’ll make it a reality.”
Steve also left your life exactly when you needed him to. At least, that’s what you tell yourself to feel better about it all.
The Snap, the Blip, whatever you wanted to call it...It didn’t spare you. One second you were at your desk at the Avengers Compound. The next? The entire building was in ruins. A battle had raged mere yards away. Lives lost, all to save half the universe.
Steve took you in his arms when he saw you were alive. He held you tightly, tighter than he ever had before. For five years he mourned you. For him, you had been gone. He didn’t know if he would ever see you again. But now that you were back...You weren’t sure. It seemed like something was wrong.
And something was. Days later, at Mr. Stark’s funeral, Steve left to return the Infinity Stones to their rightful places. Apparently, in your absence, time travel was made possible. You wished it wasn’t. You wished it was something that remained a daydream, something you would only consider in hypotheticals. Because that was better than the reality.
Steve left, but he didn’t come back. Not in the same way.
Sam talked to him first, then came over to you, saying that Steve wanted to talk to you. You didn’t want to go, but it seemed like your feet had a mind of their own.
You sat on the other end of the bench that he was on, looking out at the water. You couldn’t look at him. It hurt to see him like that. To know that he lived out your future without you.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You say that like it means something.”
“It does,” he said. “Really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I didn’t want it to be like this. But...”
“Why did you do it? I think you owe me that, instead of phony apologies.”
Steve looked at you. You still wouldn’t look at him. “I saw Peggy, and suddenly...I don’t know. I could picture everything we could have had together.”
“And that was better than the picture you had with me?”
“I thought you were gone.”
“But you were working to undo it all, weren’t you?”
“I had no idea if it would work. But, if it didn’t...I thought that maybe—”
You stood up, turning to walk away. “I can’t do this. I thought you were the one, Steve. But I was wrong. You weren’t mine. You were hers. Peggy was the only one you ever wanted. I just...I just regret that I didn’t realize it sooner. I’m sorry. I-I gotta go.”
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear it, Steve. Not anymore.”
You passed Bucky as you were walking away. You missed the way he looked at you, almost like he pitied you. Almost like he was more upset that Steve hurt you, instead of how Steve hurt him. He walked towards Steve as you walked away.
He stood a few feet behind Steve, waiting for a moment. Then, he asked, “Why did you hurt her? You knew she was back, and you still left.”
Steve didn’t answer right away. “I knew she deserved better than me.”
“You’re right,” Bucky said. “But don’t you think you owed it to her? To at least tell her, like how you told me? She woke up five years in the future to her entire life in shambles, and the one rock she had decided to up and leave. I thought you loved her.”
“When you love someone, you let them go,” Steve said.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Bucky shook his head. “Whatever. I used to think the world of you, Steve. Of everyone who’s let me down...I never expected you to do the same.”
Before Steve could say anything, Bucky was walking away. He found you just as you were about to get a ride.
“Hey,” he said.
You turned, trying to hide your teary eyes. “Hey.”
“We don’t know each other, not really. I’m Bucky,” he said.
“Look, if Steve sent you—”
“He didn’t. I came on my own,” he said. “I just wanted to say, if you ever need anything, someone to talk to, literally anything, you can come to me. I know a thing or two about a life being turned upside down.”
You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I appreciate it but...I can’t. Not after, you know.”
“The offer still stands.”
“Thank you, but...I don’t know. I need to ground myself, and I can’t do that with someone who was so close to him.” You looked away. “I lived too long with my head in the clouds. Now I gotta face reality.”
Your mother always told you that your head in the clouds, that you were always a million miles away from the real world. But now you were too old for that. That carefree life, it wasn’t yours anymore. Now, you had no choice but to face your every waking moment in the agony of reality.
Warnings: talk of cancer diagnosis, consensual unprotected sex between Steve Rogers and reader, heavy angst, eventual death of reader
All writing is my own.
This is the first time attempting to write something like this. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work, but people love a trier, right?
Steve Rogers' transformation meant that his cells didn't age the way normal ones did. His metabolism ran much faster, and he just didn't get sick. He was healthy, always looked younger than his age, and was always in great shape.
You, however, got sick. Really sick. It started as a cold, then you developed a cough. As the weeks went by, the cough never wavered, so you went to your doctors who immediately referred you for a scan. You went to the appointment, with Steve by your side. You had both sat in front of the Doctor after the scan as he told you that you had lung cancer, and treatment would have to start straight away in order for you to have a chance. Chemotherapy was started within a matter of days, and after 3 months it seemed to be successful. The scans showed that the cancer cells had gone.
You and Steve went travelling for a year, and it was on a beach in Mauritius where he proposed, roughly a year later. The sun was setting, the water was crystal clear, and you had taken your drinks outside onto one of those sharer-beds where couples could cosy up together to relax outside. Candles had been lit and you had snuggled yourself into Steve's side, the warm breeze kissing your skin. He lifted your left hand, kissing each of your fingers, and you had closed your eyes to the sensation. You felt him sliding something onto your ring finger, and you had opened your eyes to see a single solitaire diamond ring shining back at you. You'd looked at Steve and he was looking back at you nervously, smiling. You had thrown your arms around him and mumbled "yes" in between kissing him over and over again, giggling in delight. The kisses had deepened, and became longer, more intimate. You both slid down on the double bed, grateful for the high back and sides, as his hand slipped up your thigh underneath your dress, sliding your pants down your legs and taking them off. Your hands had drifted to his shorts, undoing the button and zip and sliding them down his legs partway, just enough to allow his cock to spring free, already dripping with pre-cum. You palmed him, and gently ran your finger tips up and down his length, Steve groaning into your mouth from the sensation of your fingertips dancing over him. You feel yourself already wet between your legs. You bite his bottom lip, then lick over it with a flick of your tongue, and he whispers your name, barely able to stop himself from rutting into the air between you, desperate for some friction. You wrap your hands into his hair and run your tongue inside his mouth, twirling it around his, exploring his mouth, and you feel his body tense above you. You break the kiss and look up at him only to find dark, lust-filled eyes staring back at you. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" He whispers huskily at you, and you feel his hands grip your hips tightly. You look up at him, your eyes shining, and say "it's okay, you can let go, you won't hurt me." His lust-filled eyes soften, and you can see all the love he holds for you in them. He drifts his hand down and slides his fingers in between your lips, bringing your essence to his mouth and sucking his fingers, closing his eyes at the taste of you. You part your lips slightly and rub your thighs together, even more turned on by the sight. Steve dips his head to kiss you, sliding his tongue inside your mouth so that you can taste yourself too. You moan into the kiss and his fingers slide back through your folds, circling your clit then just dipping into your entrance, teasing you. You lift your hips to try and get his fingers deeper inside you but he pulls his hand away and you whimper at the loss of his warm hand. He chuckles and you take the moment to swipe the pad of your thumb over his tip, causing him to inhale sharply. He watches as you slowly lift your thumb to your mouth and suck his pre-cum off seductively. He growls, grabs your hand and pins it above your head, and lines himself up with you, nudging your entrance with his leaking tip. He eases himself slowly inside; you feel him sliding into you inch by inch and your head tilts back; you're looking up at him through your eyelashes, mouth slightly open with the feeling of being filled up so slowly. He positions himself so he is completely over you, his arms encasing you in either side. He leans in close, and whispers "mine" in your ear. At the same time he eases out of you, and thrusts back into you. You gasp, curling your fingers so your nails embed in his shoulders, and he groans in response, burying his head in the side of your neck and he thrusts over and over into you, both of you climbing ever higher towards your peaks until you both snap together, burying your faces into each other's necks to muffle your noises as Steve slows his thrusting into you, finally stopping. He lifts his head and smiles a peaceful smile at you, matching the smile you are giving him.
"I love you," he says quietly. "I always will love you doll."
"I love you," you reply quietly back, placing your hand over his heart. "Forever my good man."
You both readjust your clothing, with Steve sliding your pants into his shorts pocket, and you finish the rest of your drinks as the sun dips below the horizon line.
As you sat there in front of the Doctor hearing that your Cancer had come back 2 years after having it, all you could feel was the grip of Steve's hand getting tighter and tighter around yours, until you tapped him with your finger and he released the pressure, mumbling a quick "sorry" with a glassy look over his eyes. You try to gently smile at him, but he is looking at the Doctor. "You sure it's back, doc?"
The doctor looked at Steve grimly.
"I'm afraid so, and it's worse than before. We can treat it, but it would only be to prolong her time here. There is no cure."
Steve leaned forward.
"There has to be something, some technology somewhere..."
"If you know of any, you're more than welcome to try," the doctor replied softly.
Steve sat back. You leaned forward to speak to the Doctor.
"How long do I have?"
"It could be weeks, it could be months..."
"NO." Steve spoke harshly, slamming his hand onto the table, interrupting the Doctors words. "You do not get to give up on her like that!"
"This isn't giving up, Mr Rogers, and if your fiancé wants the treatment we are happy to treat her. I am simply saying..."
"I know what you're saying," Steve growled, "and I don't accept it."
"Steve," you place your other hand on his arm gently, and he sits back in his chair a little bit, exhaling slowly. You look at the Doctor. "Thank you, I will take the treatment."
The Doctor nods, looking hesitantly at Steve before giving you a letter. "This will tell you your first round of treatment and where to go. I wish you the very best of luck."
You stand, and pull Steve to stand with you. You both exit the Doctors room, and his shoulders droop suddenly as he pulls you into a hug, tears in his eyes.
"I can't lose you," he whispers into your hair.
"You will never lose me, I will always be with you," you reply, wrapping your arms around his waist.
Days turn into weeks.
Weeks turn into months.
Over the course of your treatment, you lose your hair. You lose weight. You lose your strength. Steve watches you deteriorate in front of his eyes, and it kills him from the inside, knowing there isn't anything he can do this time to protect you, to save you.
You eventually decide to stop the treatment, preferring to spend the remainder of your time with Steve.
As you lay there in bed together one night, you curl up into his side. You feel the cold more than you did before. You feel so, so tired. He pulls you close, breathing in your hair, smelling your shampoo from when he had bathed you earlier.
You laid your hand over his heart. "I love you. I am always with you. Forever my good man," you mumble.
And when you close your eyes for the last time, and your hand loosens its grip from his, Steve knows.
I honestly want biker!steve to mark up my whole body with his teeth. It would be so good to feel his beard scrape all over you
Wear My Mark
Summary: You surprise Steve in the bedroom. Now you're both going to wear each other marks
Pairing: Biker!Steve x Reader
Word Count: 1.6K
Warnings: Smut, implied oral, Steve discovering he has a tiny biting kink, implied pain kink, praise kink, beard kink.
a/n: Sinday drabble #2.
Steve has one addiction.
It manifests in the primal urge to mark your pretty skin. It’s not even because he’s possessive, he’s confident in the fact that the world knows you belong to him.
Oh no, the marks he leaves behind are for you and only you. The same way you feel him in your cunt long after he’s done fucking you so good you almost blackout, he wants you to feel him on your skin. Steve wants-needs- you to carry remnants of him on you and in you.
This is why you’re currently splayed on the bed, wearing his dog tags with your wrists bound above your head. Sweat beads along the soft planes of your body, your mouth slack, soft wheezing gasps slipping through your lips.
It’s been hours of him worshiping your body, his beard dragging over your inner thighs until you’re drenched. Bruises blooming across your skin, his lips attaching to you, sucking and kissing and biting. You’re hoarse from begging him to put his mouth on your pussy.
Steve keeps murmuring, “just a second Darlin, almost done.”
Tears burn your eyes, you can’t even rub your thighs together for relief, the deep ache in your cunt pulsing faster and faster.
Steve lays his large muscular body on top of you, his firm chest pressing into your damp skin. “Almost done.”
You never hated two words more in your entire life. His thick cock shifts between your legs, resting on your pussy. He ignores your attempts to grind on him, plush lips finding the curve of your throat, sucking another bruise on your skin. “Okay, okay, please Steve enough, I need your cock baby, I need it.”
His lips lift off your skin, brows furrowing at the sheer neediness in your voice. Deep blue eyes drift down to the spot above your collarbone, his mark from last week is faded, he licks his lips, his head dipping down. “Almost done, one more and-“
Something inside of you cracks, desperation bleeding through and clouding your judgment.
And you bite down.
Your teeth sinking into his broad shoulder, screaming his name as a startling ferocity unfurls inside of you.
And he goes absolutely still.
His heavy even breathing rings in your ears, you gingerly turn your head to find his darkening blue eyes focused on your face, pupils slowly dilating until only a thin rim of blue remains in his feral gaze.
Your stomach flutters, twisting painfully as you realize you just bit your man. You’re still biting him, oh god, stop biting him, let him go panic crawls up your spine, you open your mouth, releasing his warm skin. You try to speak, but no words come out, only a soft squeak, so you let your head fall back on the soft pillow.
He doesn’t move, only his eyes flickering to his shoulder, your marks indented in his smooth flesh. Tension crackles in the air like static and he drops his head back, baring his throat.
“Do it again,” he growls.
You blink. Not understanding. You open and shut your mouth with an audible click and he groans. His pulse leaping his throat, tendons distending.
“Do. It. Again.” His voice is so much deeper, darker and his chest rumbles against your breasts. Your pussy gets wetter, slick pouring out of you.
You reach up, your tongue sweeping softly across the marks you made and he shudders. Oh fuck, that does things to your pride. You completely understand why he enjoys making you shiver, there’s a power in knowing you’re making him lose control of his own body. You graze your teeth across his shoulder and up to his throat.
For a second you hesitate, but then you imagine it.
Your mark on Steve Rogers.
Steve riding his bike down the coast and leading his men with your mark on his throat. Steve sauntering around the club wearing your marks proudly like he does his club patch on his chest.
You want that so badly you can taste it.
You place your lips on his pulse point. And you suck, not letting go even when he groans your name, a small part of you smirking almost done Stevie, pulling him harder into your mouth until he drops his weight on your body. You pull off with a wet plop, giggling at the sight of his rapidly reddening skin.
Fierce blue eyes snap up to your face, the intense expression makes your stomach drop. Steve lines himself up with your aching cunt, his warm smooth head pushing through your folds until he’s almost inside you. His beard grazes over your tender throat, his lips moving over your jaw until they’re ghosting over the shell of your ear. You’re so close to begging him again, tugging your hands helplessly, but then he speaks.
“Do it again.”
He pushes into your pussy with one long, vivid stroke, filling you so completely you can’t move, a wordless cry forming into your throat. He’s thick and warm and so big, stretching you wide, a cool burn rippling through you. “Oh fuck Steve, fuc-” you gasp. He pulls out of you, inch by thick, veiny inch and he waits.
“Wha-Steve no,” you say, glancing down at your joined bodies, his throbbing cock glistening from your slick. “Steve why-”
“I’m not going to repeat myself darlin’“
You swallow thickly, your walls clenching down around his swollen head trying to pull him back inside where you need him. You glance back up at his face, your eyes catching the bruise forming on his skin.
You immediately latch onto his shoulder, digging your teeth into his skin. And he slams into your wet, tight pussy, the headboard crashing into the wall. You lave your tongue over the fresh set of bruises, sucking along his thick throat. And with every mark you leave, he fucks you harder.
His pace, deep and fast, just the way you like it, sending bursts of sensations through every cell of your body. “Good girl, just like that, fuck Darlin, little harder, s’good for me,” Steve groans, his words slurring, snapping his hips into yours, each deep stroke tightening the coil in your belly. The steady thump of the headboard mingling with your muffled sobs of pure pleasure.
Steve wrenches his head back, panting widely as he stares down at you. “You’re gonna take my cock and cum all over me.” He swears under his breath, watching your eyes roll back as he grinds into your cunt.
He drops his weight to one arm and lifts your hips with his hand. His mouth skates over your skin, nipping and sucking and licking until he’s leaving a trail of bruises along your body. He keeps changing angles, his large hand gripping your ass, keeping you tight against him.
“C’mon, I know you wanna give it to me.” Steve knows he’s close to your sweet spot, all he has to do is- “There it is,” He grins wickedly at your sudden strangled cry, your body jerking under him. His thick cock hitting your spot over and over.
His swollen lips descend on yours, swallowing your moans, deepening the kiss as you cum, bursts of colors dotting your vision. He fucks you through it, sending more and more sensations through you until spiraling from the pleasure, your body taut beneath his. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, right there-right there-Steve, please-” Another orgasm crashes into you and you go limp, letting the pleasure overwhelm you.
Steve tucks his head into the curve of your neck, his hips erratically pounding you into the rumpled sheets. “Fuck you feel good, so good Darlin.” A few more shaky thrusts into your tight spasming walls and he spills inside you, warmth flooding your body. His fingers flexing into your soft ass, your name groaned through his clenched teeth.
He collapses, his heavy warm body pushing you down into the bed, he doesn’t move for a minute before reaching up to untie your hands. You immediately rake your nails down his back, laughing breathlessly. “That was incredible.”
“I know.” He smirks, winking at you.
You sneer at his boyish grin, pushing your fingers into the bruise on his shoulder. Laughing at his shiver, you give him a smirk of your own. “I was talking about my pussy,” you tease.
He wraps his arm around you, rolling over until you’re on top of him. Steve slaps your ass, retorting. “So was I. And it’s my pussy, wrote my name all over it Bet you still feel me in there don’t ya’.”
You’re about to fire off a sassy remark, but your words fizzle on your tongue. You look over your very smug, sweaty man and cringe. “Um, Steve. You might wanna look in the mirror.”
He shrugs, “in a second, I need to remind you who owns your petty little cunt first.”
The next morning.
Steve leans down for a kiss, massaging your ass in his hands. His tongue delving into your mouth, your hands carding through his hair as you lose yourself in the slow, heated kiss. Breaking away, you lick your bottom lip. “Can’t wait until you get home.”
Steve takes your chin between his gloved fingers. “Love you darlin’. I’ll call when we make our first stop.”
He turns to the crowd of bikers waiting on your front lawn, a stunned silence falling over the group as they take in Steve’s marred throat. All eyes swing to you, a few god damns and one hellcat from Bucky cut through the brisk air.
You shut the door with an embarrassed squeak, Steve, on the other hand, is proud of the array of bruises decorating his skin and strolls past his men, daring them to say something else. He straddles his bike. “Let’s go.”
Bucky tosses his helmet at him. “She’s that good, huh?”
Steve glances back at the house, a grin tugging at his lips as he catches you peeking through the curtains. “You have no idea, Buck."
He cuts a menaceing look across the yard. " And I’ll kill all of you if you even think about touching my girl.”
Feedback is amazing. I appreciate every comment (emojis Included) and reblog.
Warnings: boxing matches and associated violence, injuries to Steve’s face, mention of sex, men being pigs/hitting on reader & does touch her at one point, swearing
Main Masterlist | Taglist
Boxer!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Summary: Steve Rogers captures your heart from the moment he comes to your rescue at the local boxing gym, but once this amateur boxer tries going pro, you question if you can continue to watch from the sidelines as he puts himself in harms way.
summary. | You both need each other so fucking much.
warnings. | DD/LG, smut, fluff, Daddy kink, punishment (ish), degradation, praise, (mildly) bratty!reader, soft!daddy!Steve, little space, mentions of time out, clinginess, holding hands, cockwarming, vaginal sex, rough sex, lecturing, reader is anti-vegetables, and more. 18+, MINORS DNI!
word count. | 5.7k
pairings. | Soft!Daddy!Steve Rogers (A1) x Little!Reader.
author’s note. | hope you enjoy, don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANYTHING from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit and ask for permission, you will be blocked, reported, and i’ll let others know.
Blond hair. Blue eyes. A pure soul.
Born free, born careless, born strong.
Steve Rogers. The First Avenger. Your Daddy.
“Daddy!” you squeal in happiness, your voice high-pitched and something to die for. You call his title like it’s the first time you’ve seen him in a few days, but it’s really just been a few minutes. Sweet like sugar, you’re absolutely insatiable. He emerges through the bathroom door, dressed in a new pair of clothes after drenched his previous outfit with sweat.
“Little one,” he hums in a low tone, though he’s marvellously energized from his workout. He smiles down at you, towering over you like he would with his victims. “Daddy…” you whisper, staring at him in awe like you always do. “Yeah, little one?” he questions, placing a small towel on your shared bed. “Missed you lots,” you admit shyly, digging your fingers between the strands of the carpet.
“I missed you too, little one, but I was just in the bathroom! I didn’t go that far,” he explains before grunting. Steve slowly sits down on the ground next to you, and you immediately jump into his lap. Steve wraps his broad arms around you and hugs you tightly. “Nuh-Uh, too far,” you whine, and he chuckles. His laugh reminds you of the jazz genre.
Lovely, calming, and deep.
“What’s gotten into you today, little one? Everything okay?” he wonders out loud, pressing his cheek against yours. Ever since you woke up, you’ve been on him like the nurses and agents were a year ago. “Hmm…” you hum, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. He smells of dahlia petals, crisp pears, and praline. It’s overwhelming at first but addictive after a few seconds.
“Closer,” you croak out, and he raises an eyebrow. “Hm?” Steve sings with his lips closed. “Come closer, Daddy,” you mumble, trying to shift in his lap. “Okay, little one. Just feeling cuddly today?” he questions as he adjusts you. Your legs wrap around his waist, and your ankles cross near the small of his back. “Hm…” you hum once more, and Steve is still puzzled.
You wear nothing but his clothes. His pants and his shirt. Red sweater and grey sweatpants, yet they still don’t match each other. “You lifted those big weights?” you question, reaching your hand up to his head. You flick the lobe of his ear gently, and he stifles a giggle. “Yep. I lifted the biggest, most heaviest weights in the whole building,” Steve exaggerates, but you’re too little to see through his act.
All he really did was break two punching bags. His favourite socks have sand in them, and he now knows that he’ll never go to the beach for this reason.
“Daddy’s so strong…” you say in awe, and he lets out a laugh. You move your hand away from his ear and bring it to his shoulder. You squeeze the skin, and it’s stiff with muscle. “Yeah, Daddy is strong. Want to know why Daddy’s so strong?” Steve asks, and you nod your head eagerly. “Because you lift the weights?” you innocently question.
“Well, yeah, but I also eat veggies!” he exclaims, but you just grimace. In big space, you’re okay with vegetables. But in little space, you loathe them. You prefer candies and junk food over the broccoli and brussel sprouts Steve always tries to feed you. “Yuck,” you express, keeping your face in a frown. “They’re not yucky, baby. They’re so good! Trust me. You just have too much of a sweet tooth,” Steve explains, but you don’t want to hear it.
“Nuh-uh. Veggies are yucky,” you persist, and he sighs heavily. “But that’s what I had planned for lunch!” he playfully cries out in sadness. You shake your head and pull away from him just so that he can adequately see your disapproval. “You gotta eat your vegetables, little one. Don’t you want to be strong like Daddy?” Steve questions, and you shake your head once more.
Steve clicks his tongue in disappointment. “It’s lunchtime, little one. I have to go get you something, but I’ll be really quick. I’ll be so fast, you won’t even realize I left!” he persuades, and you start to fuss. A loud whine leaves your mouth, and you toss your head back. “No, no, don’t be a fussy little baby! It’s okay. Daddy is right over there,” Steve reassures, pointing at the door.
“Hmph,” you begrudgingly sigh, jutting your bottom lip out. You pout in the utmost adorable way, and Steve fights the urge to squeeze your cheeks. He slowly stands up, holding onto you tightly so that you won’t slip from his arms and fall onto your knees. As much as you love your Avengers bandaids, you hate getting hurt. “You can hold onto your stuffie while you eat…?” Steve offers, though he is unsure of the idea himself.
You look at him in interest, and your ears perk up, too. “The big brown bear?” you ask him in a low yet soft tone. “Any stuffie you want, little one,” he smiles, even though he’s not sure which big brown bear you’re talking about. Steve turns his head and looks over to the corner of the room that’s clustered with a large pile of stuffed animals. Different colours, different sizes, and different species.
“The one from Ikea, Daddy,” you gently whisper in his ear. Almost as if this was all planned out, he makes eye contact with the bear you’re talking about. It stares at him intensely, and he soon finds his eyes watering as he challenges those beady orbs. “Djungelskog?” Steve questions, his pronunciation absolutely perfect. The paper in his pocket with all the names written down has trained him properly.
You nod your head firmly, and a bright smile is plastered on your face. You’ve forgotten all about the brussel sprouts. Steve walks you both over to the pile, and you stare at him dreamily. You’ve got this ditzy-sort of happy look to your face. It’s cute, and it matches perfectly with your cotton candy-coloured soul.
Steve grabs the stuffed animal, and he hands it to you. Gratefully, you take it from him. “Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper, holding onto both him and Djungelskog tightly. You haven’t named it, and you don’t want to. It’s fun to hear Steve pronounce his name. “You’re welcome, little one. Daddy’s going to leave you here, okay? And I’ll be right back,” Steve assures, and he slowly sits you in the rocking chair that he doesn’t trust you with entirely.
“Be careful, and be a good girl for me,” he requests, and you nod your head. You don’t make the move to touch your feet on the ground and slowly push yourself back and forth. Yet. Steve knows you’re waiting for him to leave, and he isn’t sure whether he should move you somewhere else or give you a warning. He chooses the latter. “Don’t swing too much, okay? We don’t want another set of boo-boos, do we?” he intones, raising his eyebrow.
Steve’s lips are turned upwards in a smirk. Pink, plump, and oh-so kissable.
“Mhm, won’t swing too much, Dada. No boo-boos, even though Dada will fix them with kisses,” you affirm, and you begin to kick your legs out of impatience. Steve chuckles, and he leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead. “Good girl,” Steve praises before turning around and walking out of the room. His arm reaches backwards, and he grabs onto the gold door knob that he recently had repaired.
The door shuts, and you’re all by yourself unless you count the stuffed animals as company. But you don’t, because big numbers like those are just too confusing for little babies like you. Daddy should always do the hard thinking for his baby.
Steve’s words, not yours.
The fridge opens, and you’re quickly reminded of the time you and Steve tried to find the chocolate milk he mistakenly misplaced. You can just imagine him standing in front of it, letting everything chill run through his body as he searches for the meal he prepared for you. In the glass Tupperware, looking as delicious as ever even though you’re not a fan of brussel sprouts.
“One… Two…” you slowly whisper to the brown bear who does nothing but stare. Each word is dragged out for at least a second or two. “Three… Four… Five…” you continue, slowly and gently rocking the chair. It’s nice and calming, but you’d much rather be sitting on Steve’s lap while he rocks you. “Six… Seven… Eight… Nine…” With each number, you move; once backwards, once forwards.
“Ten…” you say in a sing-song voice before standing up and letting the chair swing on its own. Your hand goes for the door, and you turn the knob gently. It doesn’t move any more, and so you begin to pull it in your direction. “C’mon!” you grunt, yanking at it as best as you can. It suddenly opens, and you quickly move out of its way to avoid getting hit in your pretty face.
“Daddy would be so proud, wouldn’t he?” you question your bear, but he stays silent. In your mind, he’s assuring you that Steve would be elated. “Thank you, Djungelskog,” you whisper, and you slowly begin to step out of the room.
The floorboards surprisingly don’t creak beneath your feet, and you carefully walk to the kitchen. You can hear Steve humming to himself, and the tune is all-too-familiar. The theme song of your favourite cartoon comes to life through Steve’s voice, and you’re gasping in shock. Though he has claimed to not be a fan of it to Tony, you now realize that he actually enjoys it just as much as you do.
“We can ask Daddy to watch cartoons!” you exclaim to your stuffie, who once again simply glares at you. “Y-Yeah, while we eat, we can watch the ‘toons with Daddy and cuddle him,” you further propose, “Daddy!” you squeal, and you run up to him, forgoing all stealthiness. Steve turns around in shock, kicking himself just a bit for not being more attentive.
You jump into his arms, and he catches you skillfully, though he still has that surprised look on his lovely face. “Little one…” he sighs, and you can’t tell whether it’s out of frustration or relief. “Daddy…” you whisper back, wrapping your legs around his waist again. “You didn’t listen to me,” Steve pouts, and you copy his action. “Why didn’t you listen to Daddy, little one? Tell Daddy. I won’t get mad, I promise,” he urges, and you give him a confident smile.
“You were gone for too long, and I missed you too much, Daddy!” you tell him, placing Djungelskog in the space between both of your chests. The teddy’s back touches Steve’s front. “Oh… But I was only gone for around five minutes!” he exclaims, wondering if he was genuinely taking too long. “That’s too much, Daddy! I wanna be close to you,” you protest, and Steve nods his head.
“Oh, baby… You know you broke a rule, though, right?” he questions, and his eyes dart to the piece of chart paper that hangs on the wall. In numerous different colours, your rules and punishments are written down. You go silent, and the smile on your face drops a bit. “...I know, Daddy. I’m sorry…” you softly say to him, looking down in shame. “It’s okay, little one, but you need to have a small punishment, okay? Just a small one!” he informs, and you quickly shake your head.
“No, please, Daddy. I just wanna cuddle you,” you beg him, even though you know he won’t be brutal. He‘s never brutal. “You can cuddle me once you’re done with the punishment, okay? You’ll be right near me! You just have to go stand by the window!” Steve explains as best as he can without upsetting you. “Time out?” you question, tilting your head to the side. “Kind of! And I won’t take a sticker off your chart. After you finish, we’ll forget it even happened!” he further urges.
“No!” you abruptly shout out, tossing your head back. “No?” Steve repeats, not sure what to do. “No. I want to be close to you, Daddy. I don’t want to go in time out. Just wanna be in your arms,” you protest, and Steve realizes that he’s definitely not going to win this disagreement. “You’re so cute and needy for Daddy today, aren’t you?” Steve queries, and you shyly nod your head.
“Daddy won’t put you in time out, but he still has to punish you,” he concludes after a few seconds of thinking. Your ears perk up, and Steve just knows you won’t refuse his idea. “But I can still be near you?” The question is something he could see from miles away. Steve happily nods his head, and the way your face lights up makes his hard thinking worth it.
The bowl of brussel sprouts has been forgotten. They cool off, and the steam that once rose has now disappeared. A spoiled little baby is what you are, spoiled but just not rotten. You always manage to get your way, and he always gives you whatever you ask for. No more veggies for lunch, and no more time out. Only closeness with Daddy.
“We have to put Djungelskog down, little one,” Steve tells you, and you obediently listen to him. You bid goodbye to the brown bear and watch as Steve sets him down on the countertop. His face is turned towards the window, and your stomach jumps in excitement. You know what that means, and you could never forget it. Steve bounces his body to get a better grip on you, and he carries you to the couch.
It was once white, but after a painting mishap, he had to swap it with the black version.
He sits down, and you’re now in his lap, his big thighs separating yours. “What kind of punishment, Daddy?” you ask him, looking at your caregiver with soft eyes. “The kind you’re going to love, little one. We’re going to be so close to each other, just like how you want us to be!” Steve cheers, and you’re overly eager. Steve’s hands drag you to sit in the middle of each thigh, and his hands go for his belt.
“Oh… I like that a lot, Daddy…” you admit cheekily, looking down at Steve’s groin. “I know you do, baby,” he grunts, pulling down the zipper and reaching into his boxers. His cock is half-hard, and your panties are already damp. “We’re gonna have playtime?” you question, and he shakes his head. “N- Well, kind of! You’ll see what Daddy’s going to do with that nice pussy of yours,” Steve says, and he strokes his cock a few times.
He stiffens up, and his tip is slightly sticky with the smallest drop of pre-cum. Steve’s left hand remains on his cock, while his right hand makes its way to your core. He lifts your sweater up, and he snaps the band of your sweatpants. You stand up and quickly shimmy the grey cloth down your legs. It rests at your ankles, and you’re not sure what to do.
But Steve simply places his foot in between your legs, and he presses down on the cloth. You lift your legs up until you’re freed of his pants. You quickly pull down your panties and retain your position on Steve’s lap. One of his hands is on your waist, and the other remains on his cock. “Good girl,” he praises, and he guides his cock to your slightly wet hole.
Your hands grip his firm biceps, and your fingers barely wrap about his muscles entirely. “Love you, Daddy,” you whisper to him, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Steve repeats the first two words of your sentence back to you, and he calls you his pretty baby like always.
The bulbous tip of his cock slowly pushes into you, and the stretch is a bit hard to get used to. But he’s fucked you so many damn times that you don’t mind the pain; you find it pleasurable. “You’re so tight, baby,” Steve groans, biting the inside of his cheek to control his tone. He doesn’t like being loud, but sometimes it just happens.
“You’re so big, Daddy,” you mewl in his ear, and Steve’s cock throbs at your words. He slowly sheathes himself into your pussy, letting your walls hug him tightly. Your wetness coats his cock with a thin sheen, and his balls rest against your ass. “Fu—oh, Daddy,” you choke out, catching yourself before accidentally breaking another rule. Steve chuckles at your words, and his hand leaves his cock to grip your hip.
“There. Now we’re really close, little one,” Steve whispers gently, ignoring the temptation in him to start fucking you stupid. His hips twitch around a bit, and so do his legs. He so badly desires to fuck up into you, and his mind doesn’t bother to convince him otherwise. The voice is an octave more profound than his, and he’s heard it every single time he’s wanted to do something.
Beat up a bully in a back alley, ask a dame out, sit on the fire escape. It’s been there for a while, and he just can’t seem to get rid of it.
“Do I bounce up and down, Daddy?” you question, pulling your head away from its hiding spot. Memories of Steve teaching you how to ride his cock come flooding in, and they all end with you giving up and him taking over. “N- No… This isn’t playtime, little one. Remember how you broke that rule? W- Well… this is the punishment!” he explains while trying to focus on something other than the fact that you’re gyrating your hips.
You tilt your head in confusion, but as the words sink you, you slowly begin to nod in understanding. “No playtime, little one. We’re just going to stay like this for a bit. But at least we’re really close to each other now!” Steve exclaims, and he knows he’s won this debate that was never declared. “Okay, Daddy!” you say after a while, and you go back to laying your head on his shoulder.
As soon as you look away, Steve bites down on his bottom lip harshly. He doesn’t care if he’s hurt or if a piece of thin skin is now loose. All he cares about is you, his precious little baby. The tip of Steve’s cock is right near your sweet spot, and he knows it because of the way you’re trying to stop yourself from grinding on him. But as much as you try, you don’t fully succeed.
Your hips shift around a bit as you stealthily try to get his cock to touch your g-spot and make you feel euphoric. “Little one…” Steve warns, and you quickly halt your movements. “Daddy…?” you call out in a similar tone. “Don’t move around, okay? This isn’t playtime,” he tells you sternly, and you nod your head slowly. “I- I know…” you whisper to him.
“But…! I have tingles, Daddy! And, and, I know you have tingles too because you’re making those sounds in my ear!” you explain to him as best as you can, tiptoeing the line of being on your best behaviour and being mischievous. “So… Can we have playtime, Daddy? Please!” you beg, shifting your hips around out of habit. As your words sink in, Steve’s face twists up just a bit in pleasure.
“Oh my fucking God,” he curses under his breath and the veins on his cock throb at your movements. “No, little one, we can’t have playtime,” he reminds you, trying his hardest to put his foot down for once. You jut your bottom lip out, and your mouth is shaped in the cutest frown Steve has ever seen. “This is supposed to be a punishment, okay, little one? Please listen to Daddy,” Steve pleads, even though that voice is starting to get louder.
“Hmph… Okay, daddy! I’m a good girl, I promise,” you say to his surprise. Usually, you’d put up a bit of a fight. “I know, little one. My good little girl,” he praises. Steve’s cock remains inside you, hard as ever, and he finds himself actually considering the idea of fucking you despite his previous words.
“I love being close to you, Daddy! Needed you so badly,” you tell him, and he nods his head in agreement. “I love being close to you as well, little one,” Steve repeats before taking a deep breath. “Daddy needs you, baby,” he finally admits, husking in your ear as his hands grip your waist even tighter. Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets, and your cunt drools at his words.
“But-” you start, and Steve cuts you off. “I know, little one. But Daddy’s a bit of a liar,” he jokes, and you giggle. “So… Playtime?” you question innocently, patiently yet also restlessly waiting for him to start fucking you. “Daddy’s going to fuck this sweet little pussy of yours, and you’re going to take it like a good girl, right?” he asks, and you eagerly nod your head.
You’re suddenly being lifted up and placed in a new position. Your back is against the seat of the couch, and Steve hovers over you. His eyebrows are knitted together in a mix of focus and attentiveness. Steve’s thick cock remains locked inside your pussy, and he doesn’t dare to slip out on his watch. You giggle in excitement as Steve grabs onto your wrists and pins them above your head.
“So needy and eager, hm? Guess that’s where I get it from,” he jokes before pressing a quick kiss on your forehead. The act has your mind all fuzzy and light, and you find yourself falling deeper into little space. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy,” you tell him in a slight whine, and Steve quickly shushes you. “I know, little one. Daddy’s gonna fuck you until you’re my drooly little baby,” Steve assures, and you let out a whimper at his words.
His left hand holds your wrists together, while his right hand braces him up properly. Steve shifts around, trying to find a decent position. “Daddy!” you whine out, dragging the last letter of his title. “You’re taking too long,” you add, running out of patience with your caregiver (even though it should really be the other way around). “I’m sorry, little one,” Steve sighs, hoping to avoid you having a tantrum.
Those are always the worst—he’s a terrible negotiator when it comes to what his baby wants. “S’okay, Daddy,” you whisper, and Steve gives you one of his softest smiles. Those grins are strictly reserved for you. “Finally adjusted,” he mutters, and your stomach jumps in excitement. “Daddy’s going to make you feel so good, little one,” he husks, and you tighten the legs that are around his waist.
Slowly, Steve begins to drag his cock out of you. He strokes your sensitive walls until he halts, and then he pushes back in. You let out small mewls and soft whimpers from the feeling. He moves his hips back and forth softly, almost as if he’s scared to break you into pieces. The tip of Steve’s cock lightly kisses your sweet spot, and your entire body shudders.
“T- Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper, not forgetting your manners despite your bratty behaviour. “Such a good little girl,” Steve praises with that deep voice that only comes out when he’s hot and bothered. You let out a moan at his words and your pussy flutters. Steve’s long, thick cock drives in and out of you lazily, and his movements are just as soft as his words.
But it’s simply not enough for you.
You let out a whine, one that carries a tone of begging. Without words, you plead to Steve. Harder, faster, please. His eyebrows raise in surprise. Somedays, you give him whiplash. Your ever-changing feelings have him in wonder. One second, you’re the loveliest baby anyone could ever wish for. But the next, you’re a desperate little minx who is absolutely insatiable.
Steve continues to fuck you gently, though, and you can feel your body alight with the most minor yet most powerful amounts of pleasure. Your sopping wet pussy clenches down on his cock tightly, and Steve swears loudly. Suddenly, he’s a sailor facing the harshest of winds and largest of waves. His mouth is sinful and dirty, and he can no longer hold himself back.
You’re flipped over like you’re on a rollercoaster. This time, you’re actually able to enjoy yourself without worrying about any injuries that Daddy’s kisses can’t fix. Steve is on his back and lying down with his knees slightly bent. The heels of his feet dig into the couch. You’re on top of him, touching his chest with yours, and your head is tilted up to look at him.
Steve’s cock remains locked inside of you, throbbing with desperation and shiny with your arousal. “D- Daddy,” you whimper out quickly, desperate from him. “Wanna be close to you,” you promptly add, and your arms reach up to grab his face. Your fingers press down lightly on his cheeks, and Steve pulls them away. He laces his digits between yours, and you sigh in satisfaction.
“Like that, little one?” he questions, trying his best to make you happy. He doesn’t have to try too hard, though. You nod your head eagerly, and Steve smiles at you. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone could ever see in their life. Suddenly, his dominant hand leaves you alone, and he places it on your hip. Before you can let out one of your bratty sounds, Steve begins to roughly pound into you.
His feet dig further into the cushions of the couch for leverage. Steve’s hips buck upwards at a quick and rough pace, one that you can barely keep up with. You let out a loud whine as your eyes roll back into your head. “Daddy!” you cry out, each letter being cut in half by a piercing wail. Steve’s cock drives in and out of your wet pussy, and he grunts as it becomes easier for him to move.
“That’s right, baby, take Daddy’s cock like the good little slut you are,” Steve whispers in your ear, and his words have you grinding on him. He’s got you all riled up and desperate, perfect for him to make you feel good as well as use you to get himself off. “It’s so big, Daddy,” you mutter, and it’s your signature phrase whenever you have playtime with your Daddy.
And you’re not wrong. You hardly ever are.
“I know, baby. Daddy’s cock is just stuffing your princess parts full, right?” he taunts, knowing that with his thrusts, you believe his cock just goes deeper into your guts. “So full,” you nod, your eyes rolling back into your head. Steve’s balls slap against your ass as his hips buck upwards continuously. The sound of skin slapping against skin, as well as your mixed noises, fills the room.
“I love your cock so much, Daddy,” you whimper out through clenched teeth, watching as Steve’s face contorts in a similar manner. “I know you do, little one. That’s why you’re such a desperate whore; all for Daddy’s big cock,” he grunts, and your legs tremble with the way he repeatedly pounds against your sweet spot. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he just knows that your poor pussy can barely handle the way he’s fucking you.
“Y- Yeah, your little w- whore, Daddy. ‘M your little whore,” you repeat, and your words spur Steve on. He’s determined to fuck you until you’re babbling like a baby, maybe even drooling, too. Hot fire of the colour blue fills your body up. The flames lick at your nerves, and they dance around in your lower abdomen. Your eyes roll back, and your jaw falls open as Steve’s cock drives into you without relent.
“There she is, there’s Daddy’s dumb little baby,” your caregiver cooes, and his words make your pussy drool even more. You lock eyes with Steve for a split second, and the dark look that has taken him over makes you realize that all he wants right now is to make you come. “Tell Daddy how good his cock feels,” he orders, and you stare at his hand. It’s veiny, just like his cock, and it’s strong enough to do virtually anything.
“Your cock feels so good, Daddy. I love it so much,” you tell him, and he chuckles in satisfaction. “Good girl. You’re doing so good for me, such a good little baby,” Steve tells you, and his thrusts begin to become slower. Yet his roughness doesn’t falter at all. “D- Daddy…” you whimper to him, feeling that pressure in your stomach growing at a feverish pace.
“Are you going to come, pretty baby?” Steve questions, even though he already knows the answer. You repeatedly nod your head. “Uh-huh,” you say, and your voice has changed just a tiny bit. A mixture of strain from your pornographic moans, as well as that tiny slur that only shows up when you’re in little space. “Can I come, Daddy?” you politely request, not at all forgetting Steve’s most important rule during playtime.
“You wanna come all over Daddy’s cock? Hm? You want to make a mess for me?” he asks once more, and you’re unsure if you can hold it off for him. “Yes, Daddy! I wanna come all over your cock and make the biggest mess for you,” you quickly sputter out, and you watch as Steve smirks. “Go ahead, baby, come for Daddy. Do it, be a good girl,” he urges, and as if this is some sort of carefully thought out plan, you hit your climax on cue.
Your body squirms around as your cunt clamps down on Steve’s cock. You let out choked moans that are mixed with a slew of breathless thanks to Steve. More stickiness coats his member, and your skin is alight with heat. Your Daddy’s thrusts become more gentle, just so that you won’t be overstimulated beyond words. He knows you’re just a tad bit too sensitive for that today.
“Fuck, such a good girl,” Steve praises, absolutely adoring the way your pussy is wrapped around his cock so tightly. “Uh-huh, ‘m your good girl, Daddy! Just for you to use,” you repeat dumbly, and he smiles. So well-behaved, so obedient… All for him and nobody else. Pleasure still grips you like a strong fist, and you find yourself moaning even louder as Steve begins to speed up again.
“Daddy!” You cry out, realizing what he’s doing. He’s using you just like he wants. “You like it when Daddy uses that sweet little pussy to get off?” Steve questions and his thrusts become more desirous for his own pleasure. You don’t just like it; you love it. “Mhm, I love it when Daddy uses my pussy!” you exclaim just to egg him on.
You watch as the lovely Daddy you adore melts away into a man who has been fighting off his fervour for far too long. “God, you needed me so badly, didn’t you? Just can’t get enough of me even though I’m already so close to you,” he grunts, remembering the fact that he’s only in this position because of your clinginess. A proud Chesire cat smile spreads on your face, but it turns into a frown quickly.
“Are you going to come again already, pretty baby?” Steve questions and he’s not even surprised because he knows just how sensitive you are. You nod your head as that pressure quickly builds up once again. He chuckles, and it’s wicked and patronizing. “Such a fucking slut, wanting to come before your Daddy…” he mutters, knowing you can hear him clearly.
A groan rumbles in his chest, and you can hear his heart clamouring wildly. Yours does the exact same, and it’s almost synchronized to Steve’s. His eyebrows are knitted, and you can tell he’s now more focused on you rather than himself. While you appreciate it, you don’t want it. “Daddy, please come in my pussy, please!” you suddenly plead, and your words go straight to his cock.
Steve groans your name loudly before following it up with a jumbled curse word. “Desperate little baby… I know what you want,” he grunts, and both of your moans are louder than ever. “Go on, come for Daddy since you’ve been so good for me,” he orders, and your pussy spasms once he finishes speaking. As soon as he feels you clamp onto him tightly, Steve pushes his hips upwards and squeezes his eyes shut.
He holds your hand tightly, for both his sake and yours. While you coat his cock in your juices, white ribbons of cum paint your insides. Warmth envelopes your inner walls, and you can’t help but sigh at the feeling. He fills you up until you’re leaking, and you thank him so graciously because that’s what good little babies do. “T- Thank you, Dada, thank you so much,” you whimper out.
Steve smiles down at you, even though there’s a pang of guilt in his chest. You look up at him with that dumb yet lovesick smile on your face. He returns it with a comforting one, and that sick feeling disappears. “You’re welcome, my little baby,” Steve hums, and his grip leaves your hip. You’re confused, and you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. He grabs your other hand and holds it tightly.
You let out an exhale of relief and find yourself more than in love with your caregiver.
“I gotta clean you up, little one. Daddy made a big mess,” he says after a while, but you quickly shake your head instead of allowing him to take care of you. “What’s wrong?” he quickly asks in panic, wondering if you’re hurt. “Mmm… Don’t go, Daddy. I need you! I want to be close to you!” you exclaim, resuming the same tune you’ve been playing on repeat for the day.
Tousled hair. Dark eyes. A mildly tainted soul.
Born sinful. Born strong. Born yours.
Steve Rogers. Your Daddy. The man who needs you in return.
pairing: mob!bucky barnes x wife!reader, mob!steve rogers x reader
request: combination of two requests
“can it be mob!bucky x wife! reader where bucky is fucking the reader and steve(buckys right hand man) walks in to talk to him about a problem it can be anything and bucky doesn’t stop and talks to steve while continuing to fuck the reader and talk the problem and so on” - @slasherbucky
“i was wondering if you could do it where it's you and bucky for like half of the story then steve joins in after finding you and him.” - anonymous
You adjusted the lace on your torso, then you closed the trench coat again. You crossed your legs as you waited. You were starting to get impatient.
You heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. The door knob started to turn, so you sat up.
The door opened slowly, and the room was filled with the sound of Bucky’s voice. He was on the phone. “No, that is unacceptable. Tell him that is our highest offer.” He demanded.
You squirmed on the desk. You loved it when Bucky was authoritative. Bucky’s eyes went wide as he saw you. “I…uhhh—I’m going to have to call you back.” He said, quickly hanging up the phone.
He turned around, closing the door behind him. His eyes were drawn to where your trench coat stopped. “Hi there, sweetheart.” He said, softly as he stopped right in front of you.
“I wanted to surprise you.” You said, as you opened the buttons. Bucky’s voice got stuck in his throat as he realized what you were wearing. “There’s my beautiful wife. What’s the matter? Did you miss me, huh? You miss my big cock?” He asked. His voice was low and husky; his words went straight to your core.
You just nodded as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “First, we have to get rid of this.” He said, pulling the coat off your shoulders. His eyes raked down your chest, admiring your lingerie set. “Please,” you mumbled.
He shushed you as he grabbed your hips. He rubbed his thumbs over the lacy fabric. Goosebumps popped up on your skin wherever he touched you. “As pretty as this little set is, there is something much prettier under it.” He said, quickly unfastening all the straps.
“Now you look much better.” He said, admiring your naked form. His hands found their resting spot on your hips; his thumbs massaged your skin. One of his hands drifted down to your thigh. You whimpered, biting down on your lip.
Bucky’s eyes snapped up to meet yours. He immediately noticed the neediness in your eyes. After all, you hadn’t come down to office for him to tease you.
He leaned in closer to you, until his lips were millimeters away from your ear. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” He whispered, sending shivers down your spine.
You quickly nodded your head, waiting for his response. His lips curved upward, forming a smirk. “Good because I was having a hard time stopping myself.” He chuckled. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and took off his shirt.
Getting impatient, you reached out and undid his belt. “Go ahead, sweetheart.” He said. He could feel his pants continue to tighten as he watched you.
You finally pushed down his dress pants, letting them fall to the floor. He kicked them off and pulled off his boxers. You continued to squirm, growing more impatient by the second.
Bucky walked to the other side of the desk, standing where his chair normally was. He grabbed your shoulders and quickly turned you around to face him. This way, he could keep an eye on the door.
With one swoop, he pushed everything off his desk and onto the floor. “Lay back for me.” He said, letting his hand wrap around his hard cock. He pumped himself a few times, letting curses fall from his lips.
You leaned your weight against the desk. He grabbed both your legs, wrapping them around his waist. “Look at you, soaked already.” He said, prodding your entrance with his tip.
He didn’t tease for long, quickly sinking into you. A loud moan escaped your lips after finally feeling Bucky where you needed him. His large hand quickly covered your mouth as he began to thrust into you quicker. “Do you want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.
Bucky was always looking for your new kinks. You quickly shook your head no. “Then, maybe I just fuck you so good that you can’t contain yourself?” He said, cockily. Another moan came out, being muffled against his hand.
He used his other hand to hold onto your hips. The desk creaked with every thrust. You were worried it might break as Bucky relentlessly pounded into you.
Your slick folds let him slide in and out of you with ease. “You feel so perfect, like you were made for me.” Bucky groaned, finally uncovering your mouth. You bit down on your lip, trying your best to stay quiet.
“I’m really close,” you mumbled between gasps for air. Bucky, of course, already knew that. He knew your body like no one else. Your eyes fluttered closed, as you felt your stomach begin to tighten.
You were brought out of your gaze by a knock on the door. Your eyes went wide, looking at Bucky for answers. “Don’t worry,” he told you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he would just ignore his visitor.
“Come in,” Bucky called out, making your heart race. He chuckled at the bewildered look on your face. The door opened and Bucky’s right-hand-man, Steve, walked in. Steve seemed equally as shocked.
He quickly focused his gaze on the ground, feeling like he shouldn’t look at what was happening in front of him. “I can come back.” He mumbled quickly. You quickly looked between Bucky and Steve.
Steve’s face was bright red, but Bucky seemed to be enjoying himself. “You clearly needed something, Rogers. Out with it, and look at me when we’re talking.” Bucky barked, continuing to thrust into you. You crossed your arms, trying to cover your bare chest. You bit down on your lip, trying to not cum in front of Bucky’s coworker.
“Uhh…Johnson and his team want to back out on the deal.” Steve said, fixing his gaze on Bucky. His eyes quickly flickered down to meet yours for a millisecond before looking back at Bucky. “That is absolutely unacceptable, and he’s bluffing.” Bucky said, completely ignoring how you were squeezing around him.
They both continued to talk, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold yourself back. “That’ll be all, Rogers.” Bucky said, fixing his gaze back on you.
You glanced over at Steve when you didn’t hear footsteps. He was frozen in place; his eyes focused on the look of pleasure on your face.
Bucky clicked his tongue, which he always did when he was thinking. You didn’t notice, you were too busy trying to not combust from embarrassment.
“Unless, you’d rather stay,” Bucky said. You glared at Bucky, shooting daggers. You shook your head, trying to let him know you were close. “Cum, sweetheart. He wants to see it.” Bucky told you, picking up his pace.
You shook your head, begging him to not make you cum. You took deep breaths and tried to distract yourself. He moved one hand down to draw circles on your clit with his thumb.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you tightly shut your eyes. “Ohh—ohhhhh, Bucky.” You called out, cumming around him. He came not long after you.
Steve was still standing completely still, unsure about what he was seeing. Bucky pulled out of you, brushing your hair out of your face.
Then, he looked towards Steve. “What’s wrong, Rogers? Do you want to fuck my wife?” Bucky asked. Both yours and Steve’s head snapped up to look at Bucky.
“No no no, sir. Nothing like that.” Steve rushed through the words. He turned to leave the room but Bucky stopped him. “Relax, man. I wasn’t yelling at you. It was a genuine question.” Bucky said, smirking. As wrong as it was, it turned your insides to jelly. You had always thought Steve was attractive. “I don’t understand…” Steve started to say. You didn’t exactly know what was going on either.
“Listen, I don’t blame you. She’s got the tightest little cunt, just like heaven.” Bucky said, looking down at you with an adoring expression. He let his hands land on your hips, tracing different shapes on your skin.
Your attention was taken away from Bucky when you heard a choked moan escape Steve’s throat. You and Bucky quickly looked in his direction and noticed his furrowed eyebrows and tightened pants. “You thinking about her?” Bucky asked. Steve looked at you with a guilty expression before nodding his head.
With his eyes on you again, Bucky leaned closer to you. “What do you think about giving Steve a little taste of what it’s like to fuck you?” He asked you. As turned on as he was, Bucky would only go through with this if you were okay with it. A small whimper escaped you. “Does that turn you on?” He asked even though he already knew the answer.
“Yes,” you mumbled softly. Bucky nodded his head. “You heard her, Rogers. Get over here.” He beckoned his friend. Steve eagerly walked towards the both of you. His gaze rolled down your naked body before refocusing his eyes to look into yours. “One rule: you don’t cum in her.” Bucky said, patting Steve on the back.
Steve stood in front of you, still unsure of what to do. “You two go ahead. I’m just gonna watch.” Bucky said, as he sat down in his office chair. You watched as his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping himself.
You noticed the hesitancy in Steve’s eyes. You grabbed his tie and pulled him in for a kiss. You were desperate to know what he tasted like. He hummed contently as his lips met yours. You tasted sweet, just like he always imagined.
“Touch me, Steve.” You said, noticing his rigid posture. He let his hands rest on your hips, still playing it safe. You needed more. Using his tie, you pulled him even closer until he was pressed up against you. He felt his pants tighten even more as he realized you were both naked and pressed up against him.
You wrapped your legs around his waist. Steve let out a throaty moan as you began to grind your naked core onto his growing erection. “That’s it,” Bucky said, breathlessly.
You felt like your skin was on fire; you had Steve pushed against where you needed him most and Bucky’s grunts bounced off the walls.
“More,” you begged him, repositioning his hands to cup your breasts. He massaged the skin with his hands, now getting more comfortable. You jutted your hips against him, whimpering.
“You hear that noise, Rogers? Look how needy she is. Now, you fuck her. Give her what she wants.” Bucky instructed. Bucky giving Steve instructions only turned you on more. Steve pulled out of the kiss to look back at Bucky. He was still worried.
Bucky groaned before standing up. “What? You don’t believe me. Ask her what she wants.” He told him. Steve turned around to face you again. Before he could say anything, you spoke. “I really need to you fuck me, please. Fill me up, Steve.” You begged.
Steve hesitated. Even with Bucky’s permission, he felt like it was crossing a line to fuck your best friend’s wife. “Whats wrong, Rogers? Do you need some help? You can’t handle her all by yourself?” Bucky asked, pulling Steve away from you.
He grabbed your hand and laid you down longways on his desk. “Lay down, sweets.” Bucky told you, softly. You looked up at the ceiling as you waited. Bucky pushed Steve, so he was standing down by your legs before returning right next to you.
“Sweetheart, would you like to suck my cock while Steve fucks you?” He asked. You quickly nodded your head, not even trying to hide your eagerness. With a smirk on his face, Bucky stood behind your head. You opened your mouth, waiting for Bucky.
He slowly slid his length into your mouth, being careful with the new angle. You let your lips wrap around him, causing him to groan. As you were adjusting to his size, Steve pushed himself into you.
You moaned against Bucky’s cock. “Oh yes, honey. You love being filled up, don’t you?” Bucky asked rhetorically. Steve grabbed ahold of your hips, holding you steady as he pulled all the way out and then slammed back into you. Your eyes fluttered closed instantly.
“Talk to her.” Bucky told Steve. Now that he was deep inside of you, Steve wasn’t as shy. “Baby girl, you are so fucking tight. You’re squeezing my cock so well.” He moaned, snapping his hips against yours. Bucky began fucking your throat, watching you fall apart quickly.
Your legs were already shaking. “Look at you, such a good slut for us. You were just begging to have all your holes filled up.” Bucky moaned. Steve moved his hand and began drawing tight circles on your clit. You moaned around Bucky as you got filled up with both their throbbing cocks.
You mumbled, trying to let them both know you were about to cum. None of the words that came out of your mouth were coherent, but Bucky knew just what you meant.
“She’s close. Can’t you feel it, Rogers?” He said, his thrusts faltering. You moaned, squirming against the desk. “I’m close too, sweetheart.” Bucky before cumming in your mouth.
You swallowed and licked around his cock. He pulled himself out of you, gently stroking your head. “Finish her off, Rogers.” He commanded.
Steve quickened his pace, looking down at you. You met his gaze, watching as his face scrunched up. “C’mere,” you said, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him on top of you. You were both now fully on top of Bucky’s desk, going at it like rabbits.
“You’re so fucking sexy when you know exactly what you want.” Bucky said, admiring you. You cupped Steve’s face, kissing him as you neared your peak. “Go ahead,” Steve mumbled against your lips.
You came, violently squeezing against his cock. He quickly pulled out of you, switching to his fingers. He came all over your stomach, as he used his fingers to coax you down from your high.
You both panted, completely breathless. Steve pulled himself off the desk, going to grab his clothes. You sat up, and Bucky cupped your face, kissing you. “You did so good.” He praised against your lips.
You pulled out of the kiss to take a breath, and he peppered kisses on your sweaty face. You glanced over at Steve as he buttoned his shirt back up. “Go ahead,” Bucky told you.
“Thank you, Steve.” You said, innocently. He chuckled, a smile spreading across his face. “You are so welcome.” He told you. You smiled, pulling Bucky in for another kiss.
“Hey, Rogers. The missus and I don’t have plans tonight, if you want to come over. I think she would appreciate it.” Bucky said, smirking. Steve focused his gaze on you. “Anything for you, baby girl.” He said, before leaving the room.
You giggled, kissing Bucky eagerly. “So did you have a good time? I know I did.” He told you, kissing you back.
“Such a good time. I’m glad I surprised you for lunch.” You said, with a giant smirk on your face.
summary: steve finds you miserable at peggy’s party.
a/n: so...... remember that steve x reader little women AU i wrote.....
this will be a prequel that no one asked for :) i hope to post it tomorrow!
Steve crosses his ankles, draining the last of his alcohol. “I agree with your tears though, this party of Peggy’s is particularly awful. My mother will not have a grand time, cleaning it all up tomorrow morning.”
You nod curtly.
“She’s been asking about you,” Steve adds. “There’s a new lemon pastry she wants you to try, I forgot what it’s called.”
Your mouth waters at the thought, as you hadn’t eaten anything since arriving at Peggy's celebration. You hardly remembered the cause for this occasion, but it was apparently not special enough for Sarah Rogers to debut a batch of her newest recipe.
“I think you’d like it,” Steve adds.
The stinging heat building behind your eyelids rivals the fire before you, which has simmered to a few lazy waves. The blackened logs sputter.
You sniffle, and his lighthearted stories continue; with more intention, you think, although his voice only becomes softer.
“I got new watercolors a few days ago. They’re much higher quality, and it doesn’t take me nearly as long to—”
Summary: Husband!Steve wakes reader in the best way possible
Notes: 18+ content below the cut: nudity, slight somnophilia, p in v, clit play, sleepy sex, creampie, nicknames (sweetheart, pretty girl) female reader. Very fluffy smut!
The first thing that Steve Rogers does every morning is kiss his wife.
He’s up before the sun, hand running through his mussed hair as he leans over to press light kisses to your cheeks, your lips, anywhere that he can reach.
It’s a simple act of affection, something that’s just for his knowledge. This brief moment of hazy bliss is what sets his day off in the right direction, it’s what he looks forward to when he closes his eyes at night. Because Steve doesn’t rise for the rest of the world – he does so for you.
Today, Steve had slept in far longer than he should’ve. He woke to the warmth of early morning gleaming through the sheer bedroom curtains, heating his flushed skin as he fought the urge to return to his slumber.
He cracked his eyes open, finding the clock on the wall that read just past eight in the morning. With a languid sigh and a stretch of his limbs, he rolled over to find you asleep on your side, facing away from him and bare except a thin pair of underwear.
Your practically-nude figure seemed to glow in the early morning, a dream of radiant seduction bathed in golden sunlight. Steve’s gaze flitted over your body, lingering on the peaks of your breasts and the curve of your scantily-clad backside.
Even in your sleep, you seemed to seek Steve’s presence, retreating backwards until your hips pressed snugly into his. Steve’s hand came to rest on your waist, his large palm splayed across your bare stomach in a soothing, protective manner. He pressed his fingers against your warm skin, feeling your shallow intakes under his touch.
Steve’s other hand smoothed your hair, moving it over your shoulder to place kisses down the back of your neck. His lips traced over your heated skin languidly, a pleasure that Steve often had to forego in his busy morning routine.
A content smile graced your sleeping features, filling Steve with a sense of appreciation for the life he had created with you. This was how he wanted to start every morning, this was where he wanted to spend his days.
Steve’s lips traveled up your neck and over your jaw, leaving hungry, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. He felt himself twitch in his boxers, his growing need tenting the fabric as you pressed yourself closer to him.
His grip on your middle tightened as he began to rut against your backside, small groans leaving his throat as he continued to nip and suck at your skin. You sighed deeply, rocking with Steve’s motions as your eyes fluttered open.
You surveyed the room, disoriented by the glare hitting your face and the presence of Steve behind you so late in the morning. Usually by this time, he’d be returning from his morning run, dripping sweat from the tips of his hair and mumbling under his breath to avoid interrupting your sleep.
Deciding to take advantage of his salacious behavior, you placed your hand over top of his, guiding it down until his fingertips pressed against your clothed core. His digits slipped under the thin fabric of your underwear, instantly finding your clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Scrunching your features at the groggy pleasure, your grip on his wrist tightened, surely leaving red marks on his skin. His movements were languid, almost teasing as he continued to toy with your clit idly.
“G’morning, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your ear, voice raspy and heavy with sleep.
You moaned in response, bucking your hips into his hand in search of more friction. Even in your sluggish state, you could feel Steve press his erection against you, desperate to remove the barriers that separated you from him.
“Looked so peaceful laying in the sun, couldn’t resist playing with my pretty girl.”
His pointer continued its ministrations against your clit while his middle and ring fingers dipped into your dripping core, curling until you were mewling under his touch.
“Steve,” you gasped, fighting to keep your eyes open.
You nodded, unable to form a response as you concentrated on finding your release. Just as you were nearing the edge, Steve withdrew his fingers, peeling your underwear down your legs and discarding them on the floor. His boxers followed in their path, tossed towards the end of the bed aimlessly as Steve took in the sight of you completely bare before him.
“Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy?” Steve asked, running his hand over his hard cock.
“Please,” you begged, turning your head to find Steve’s piercing gaze.
“Please fuck me, Steve. Need to feel you,” your speech slurred with want, head still foggy from waking up moments ago.
He hummed at your pleading, tapping the head of his cock against your opening and collecting the slick that covered your folds.
Steve slid himself in, biting back a moan and nudging his nose against your cheek.
“So good for me,” he whispered under his breath. “Always so good.”
You gasped at the feeling of his slow thrusts filling you from behind, a taunting promise of more pleasure to come.
His hand slid under your thigh, holding your leg up to give him a better position to drive into your cunt with a steady force, hitting your g-spot each time before pulling out quickly.
“Keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart.”
Steve’s words broke you out of your haze, realizing that your eyes had fallen shut with the pleasure that he was providing. He rocked his muscular thighs against your backside, hurtling the two of you towards a quick release.
The knot in your stomach snapped suddenly, mouth falling open as you shuddered through your orgasm. Your walls fluttered around Steve’s length, causing him to groan as he plowed into your tight channel, reaching his own high just after yours.
Steve’s hips stuttered to a stop, grip tightening around your thigh as he flexed inside of you, filling you with his warm cum. The two of you shared a satisfied sigh as Steve lowered your leg, hand finding its place on your waist and pulling you close.
“Good morning to you too,” you simpered, trying to avoid jostling Steve’s length that was still buried inside of you.
He offered a leisure grin in response, memorizing the rapture that he felt in that moment. The two of you were completely swathed in warmth from the rising sun, huddled together in a mess of tangled limbs and balmy skin.
“I wish we could spend all day like this,” you spoke, feeling Steve’s erratic heartbeat against your back. He hummed in agreement, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek.
Summary: You never expected a snowstorm to leave you stranded in an IKEA overnight. You never expected one night to change the trajectory of your life so completely. You never expected him.
Warnings: Fluff, just the tiniest bit of Angst (mentions of Steve's mom passing), Steve speaking French, because that absolutely needs to be a warning. Did I mention Fluffffff??
a/n: I finally got my act together and finished this, lolll. I will admit, I've never actually
been to an IKEA, but I watched two 30-minute video tours on YouTube as research...and I still took a few liberties, but only for the sake of the narrative! I hope you guys like this, ahhh! 💖💖(inspired by the news story about the people in Denmark).
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
The voice knocked you out of your stupor, tearing your gaze away from the white haze that had consumed the parking lot outside, turning around to face whoever had spoken.
You were not expecting to turn around and find a literal angel behind you. He was obviously lost down here with you mere mortals, his wings undoubtedly tucked neatly into the black pea coat he had on, the blue and yellow tote bag hanging from his hand filled with whatever earthly trifles he had picked up on his downward trip. Apparently, he had picked up some colorful language, too.
Do they not have furniture up there? You thought mildly as you stared for what was probably too long at the grounded seraph in the middle of an IKEA. A few strands of his blonde hair fell onto his forehead, his chiseled jaw set with a deep frown. He had the same perplexed dread on his face that you had had on yours moments ago, staring out at the swirling snowstorm that had swallowed up the landscape. After a moment, his eyes darted to you, and he seemed to come back to himself, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair.
“Sorry about that ma’am,” he said gently, his full pink lips upturned slightly. His eyes—the most gorgeous shade of blue you’d ever seen—flicked back towards the storm, his shoulders deflating a little with defeat. “How did it get so bad? I was in here for ten minutes…” he mumbled, shaking his head.
“Folks, we’re gonna have to wait this one out,” someone else said, and you turned to find the store manager, Bruce, his nametag said, standing along with you and Blonde Gabriel at the doors, his hands on his hips. It was only then that you noticed the gaggle of people surrounding you, about eight other employees and twenty unfortunate souls who had decided to do some shopping during a snowstorm, you included.
You turned to look outside again, and there wasn’t a doubt that Bruce was right. There was no way anyone could drive in the middle of all that unless they had it out for themselves. You couldn’t even see your car, and you had snagged a spot right in front of the store.
Bruce sighed deeply, giving his employees a wordless look before glancing at his watch and up at the rest of you. “We close in about two hours, so hopefully it clears up by then. I’ll make a few calls to see about plows coming down here, but in the meantime…make yourselves comfortable,” he said, taking one last look at the storm before walking towards the back of the store.
You glanced back at the angel to see he had taken out his phone, furiously typing away at the screen, running his hand through his hair again. You guessed it was a stress habit he had, and you found yourself wishing you could replace his hand with yours.
“Can I help you with anything?”
You jumped a little, startled by the voice that thankfully pulled you out of your thoughts before they got too self-indulgent.
“I’m so sorry,” the employee in question said, her brow creased with worry. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, her Eastern European accent wavering.
You shrugged away her worry, giving her a bright smile. “It’s okay…” you made a quick sweep of her auburn hair, her dark makeup, her nametag that said WANDA in block letters. “…Wanda. I’m fine, just bummed about the snow,” you said, jerking your thumb at the doors.
She scoffed, glaring at the storm as if she could control it with her mind alone. “After this, I’m moving to Tahiti,” she joked, and you laughed along with her. You were about to tell her to save you a seat on the plane when she frowned at something past your shoulder. “Stevie, you okay?”
It took you a moment to realize she was addressing the angel —Stevie . He was still typing away on his phone, his thumbs flying furiously. He let out a long sigh, looking up at Wanda and giving her a genuine, albeit stressed, smile.
“I’m good Wan, just telling Bucky off for sending me out in the blizzard of a lifetime,” he mumbled, frowning down at the device as if it were actually the offending ‘Bucky’. “Wait for me if it clears up, I’ll give you a ride home,” he told Wanda, offering another small grin to the both of you before walking off, placing his phone to his ear.
“You know him?” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them, your voice painfully wistful as you watched him go. You cringed, looking over at Wanda to find her grinning at you knowingly.
“I do, unfortunately,” she said rolling her eyes. “He works with my brother. And often gets into trouble with my brother,” she deadpanned. “Do you know Steve?”
“Uh, no, we just met. Kinda,” you said, looking towards where he retreated. You swore there was a trail of pixie dust on the ground following his tracks.
“Do you want to know Steve?”
You looked at Wanda, that knowing smirk still on her face as if she could see all of the not-so-savory thoughts that had passed through your head moments ago. You could feel heat blaze on your neck, and you huffed out a nervous laugh, looking down at the wicker mail basket that you had forgotten you were holding.
“You know, I still didn’t pay for this. I should go do that,” you said, holding it up for Wanda to see.
She just cocked an eyebrow at you, turning in the direction of the register. “Okay then. Follow me, and I’ll ring you up,” she said, beckoning you to follow her.
You sighed, placing a cool hand on your embarrassingly warm cheek. You took one last glance at where your angel had disappeared to, hoping he’d choose to stay here on earth just a little while longer.
Two hours later, and things weren’t exactly looking up. A chorus of groans rang out in grim harmony as Bruce doled out the bad news to the crowd of shoppers.
“Are you serious? My kids are still with the sitter, I need to get home,” one lady complained, flapping her arms with exasperation.
Bruce shuffled nervously, wiping his glasses on the corner of his blue uniform vest. He had a sort of twisted, constipated look on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor guy. “I’m sorry ma’am, but that doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen tonight. The Department of Transportation rep was pretty adamant that the plows won’t be here until early morning.”
“Wait a second, the morning? So, you mean we’re actually stuck here? For the entire night? This is ludicrous!” another man exclaimed, a wave of murmuring bubbled up amongst the other patrons, growing louder and louder despite Bruce’s best efforts to mitigate the situation.
“Settle down, everyone.”
The angel’s— Steve’s —voice cut through the chatter with ease, all other voices dying down in response to his authoritative tone. He hadn’t even raised his voice, his words alone commanding respect and compliance without even trying. He stood towards the back of the group with Wanda, his shoulders squared, his jaw set, his entire figure composed and in full control as his gaze swept over the rest of his fellow patrons.
You weren’t sure if you wanted to salute or get on your knees.
“Look, this is a stressful situation for all of us. I get that,” Steve began calmly, his tone taking on more warmth. “I’m sure none of us saw this coming when we woke up this morning, but we’re here, and there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re all trying our best here, and Bruce is right,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the front entrance. Everyone else seemed as enraptured as you, all eyes trained on him with no protest. “The snow is still coming down bad, and even if the plows could make it out here, it would still be dangerous. At the very least, we’re in a warm, dry place with comfortable furniture we can hang out on until morning.” He sounded so sure, so unwavering, that you couldn’t help but believe what he was saying, to hold onto his words like an anchor out at sea.
“And food,” Bruce chimed in, looking measurably more at ease. “We still have plenty stocked in the café, including the meatballs. There’s coffee too.”
“And we have a projector in the back,” Wanda added. “We can hook it up to a tablet and put on Netflix.”
“Perfect, dinner and a movie,” Steve said enthusiastically, opening his arms in appeal to the others. “Can’t get any better than that, right? We’ll make the most of this. It’ll be fun, like a…a—”
“Sleepover?” another lady blandly finished for him, crossing her arms over her chest.
Steve chuckled, ducking his head a little. “Not exactly the word I was fishing for, but that works too,” he said, glancing up sheepishly. He straightened again, placing his hands on his hips, some authority returning to lines of his figure. “Let’s get this party started.”
He made his way over to Bruce, the two of them beginning to plan out whatever needed to be done, and Wanda made her way over to you, shaking her head and grinning fondly over at Steve. “He’s good at that, right?” she said, snorting lightly.
“It was quite the rousing speech,” you said mildly, ignoring the heat that threatened to invade your cheeks.
“Trust me, he sounds even better when he’s drunk,” Wanda said with a small chuckle. You laughed at that, and she regarded you for a moment with a calculating look, as if she were trying to take you apart and see what you were made of from the inside, out. She must have liked what she saw, because she grinned at you, tilting her head towards the other side of the store. “The projector’s in the back, and I bet we can find a white sheet to hang up, too,” she said, turning and heading towards the rear, following the main aisle that ran through the whole store.
You jogged a little to catch up to her, various room and furniture displays lining either side of you. It was almost like you were stuck in a human-sized dollhouse that some cruel, giant child had trapped you in for their amusement.
It didn’t take long for Wanda to find the projector, and the two of you managed to find a large white tarp to hang up. You found a good spot that would accommodate the group, pushing couches together to create a makeshift home theater. All the while, Wanda talked about her childhood, and leaving Sokovia when she and her brother were young. You told her about yourself, maybe a little too much, but it was surprisingly easy to talk to her and fill in the silence as you worked, despite only knowing her for less than an afternoon. The two of you were just about finished hanging the tarp when someone came and interrupted.
The two of you turned to find one of her coworkers, a lanky, brown-haired kid who couldn’t have been past 17, his hands and feet shuffling with nervous energy.
Wanda sighed, giving him a bland look. “What is it, Parker?”
He turned a little pink, scratching at the back of his head and tugging at his collar. “The toaster oven is acting up again,” he blurted quickly, as if he had said something forbidden. “We tried to jiggle the chord like you do, but...” he trailed off, haplessly shrugging his shoulders.
Wanda shook her head at him, sending a side-eyed look your way, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling. “This place would fall apart without me,” she murmured, more to herself than you or the kid, gesturing for him to follow her towards the back again.
You looked over the little movie set up one more time, adjusting some couches and making sure the projector was in a good spot. You eyed the tarp and noticed one of the corners was hung a little unevenly. You probably should have waited until Wanda came back to fix it, but you figured you could handle one corner on your own. You carefully climbed the ladder the two of you had found, holding on with one hand while the other attempted to fix the tarp.
“You know, you really shouldn’t use a ladder unsupervised like that.”
You jolted, the ladder shifting enough to make you yelp, grabbing onto it for dear life with both hands, tarp be damned.
“And I probably shouldn't startle you on a ladder like that, shit,” the deep voice chastised itself, a pair of large hands bracketing your waist to steady you and the ladder. “Easy, take your time stepping down,” the man said, his hands holding you steady as you made your way down. You turned around, ready to tell the man not to worry about it, but your voice caught in your throat.
Because it was your angel.
Standing right in front of you like a dream. He was even more breathtaking up close.
For a moment, you just stood there, your mouth slightly agape, your brain working overtime to formulate words it could push out of your vocal cords. Your eyes swept over the golden waves of his hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the spattering of freckles that dotted his cheek and neck, until you finally gazed into the blues of his irises, cerulean swirls mingling with whisps of emerald. And his eyelashes—
“Are you alright, ma’am?” he asked, slicing through the murky mess of your mind. There was a small wrinkle between his brows, concern riddled over his prepossessing features. When you didn’t respond right away, the wrinkle grew deeper and he glanced over you, no doubt trying to figure out if you had, in fact, hit your head on the way down and sustained brain damage.
“Hi,” you finally blurted out, your voice a couple of octaves too high.
You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
Steve’s face lightened up a little, a whisper of a grin beginning to form on his lips, though the concern was still there. “Hi,” he said back, amusement dancing in that one syllable.
It grew quiet again, the two of you unsure how to proceed with what was already an incredibly awkward encounter. That’s when you both realized how close you were to each other, and your gazes both trailed slowly down to Steve’s hands, which were still firmly holding onto your middle. Even then, he held on for a second longer than necessary, his fingers dragging along the fabric of your shirt as he pulled them away from you, reaching up to smooth over his hair with a light chuckle.
“Uh, you’re Wanda’s friend,” he said haltingly, jerking his hand back towards you for a shake. “I’m Steve, nice to meet you.”
You marveled at the dichotomy of the man in front of you, the one who had not long ago commandeered a group of strangers, who now seemed a little flustered and nervous just talking to you. You took his hand and shook it, vines of electricity zipping up your arm from the contact.
“Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Y/n,” you said, desperately trying to keep the breathy wonderment out of your voice.
He smiled at you, and there was another pause, the air thick with a tension you couldn’t quite place. You scrambled for something to say, anything to say, when a pinging sound rang out, Steve’s face dropping as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He groaned audibly, pinching his eyes shut and opening them again, shaking his head at the screen.
“Everything okay?” you asked carefully, resisting the urge to smooth out the frown on his face.
He puffed out some air, his cheeks inflating a bit as he swiped a few more times on his phone. “Yeah, just some work stuff I had to get done. It’s infuriating to do without a laptop, and the service in here is pretty shoddy anyway.”
“Ah,” you said, nodding slowly. “Well, I’m sure your boss will understand considering the circumstances. And if not, I’m pretty sure we’re only one more billionaire space race away from the proletarian revolution.”
You immediately wanted to kick yourself for trying to make a stupid joke, but your regrets dissolved as soon as Steve laughed, his whole body leaning back a little, his hand clasped against his impressively broad chest.
“Gosh, I needed that,” he said once he settled down, that damn smile lighting up his features again, sending a torrent of butterflies through your gut. He glanced up at you and lifted his shoulders helplessly, stuffing his hands in pockets. “This sucks, doesn’t it?” he breathed out, sounding relieved that he could finally give voice to his own negativity, to deflate and let it go, away from the ears of the angry mob.
You gave him a sympathetic smile, quirking your own shoulders up a bit. “It does, but like you said before, it could be worse. We could’ve gotten stuck in a Wal-Mart,” you said with a shudder.
He laughed again, and you couldn’t help the swell of pride that rose in your chest, the warmth that spread through you at the sight of him growing a little lighter.
“What exactly had you out in this storm, anyway?” you asked as you began to meander together along the main aisle towards the cafe. “Something about a Bucky, you said...”
“Don’t remind me,” he said, rolling his eyes with another sigh, though he didn’t seem as disgruntled as before. “My roommate Bucky found a stray cat a couple of weeks ago, and he’s been doting on her ever since. He asked me to stop by here on my way home to see if they had any nice cat beds for her. Apparently, the one we have isn’t ‘up to her caliber',” he said grudgingly as he took out his phone and handed it to you.
You were able to see that his lock screen was a picture of the fluffiest, white-furred cat you’d ever seen, with startling marble eyes and the cutest little nose. You cooed, and Steve chuckled, taking a look at the photo himself before slipping it into his pocket.
“Alpine,” he said, giving you a cursory glance. “She’s a cutie, I have to admit.”
“She is, and your roommate is right. She deserves a throne to sleep on, Steve,” you chided playfully, eliciting another laugh from him and earning yourself a small nudge from his arm that sent your butterflies into another tizzy.
“What about you?” He asked, turning smoothly, walking backward so he could face you as you spoke. “What made you run out in a blizzard?”
You hesitated, trying to find the right way to articulate your words. “I...I didn’t have a real reason,” you admitted, looking down at your shoes. “It’s just...this time of year is a little hard for me, and I impulsively decided to do some retail therapy.”
For some reason, shame rolled over you, as if you had committed a crime instead of just feeling a little down. This time of year was hard; it was cold, dark, and it was full of holidays that you no longer felt connected to, ones that reminded you of how lonely you really were. You sighed, chancing a glance up at Steve.
He slowed his steps until he came to a complete stop in front of you, a concerned look on his face. “You okay?” he asked softly, so softly that it made your heart ache.
You swallowed down the emotions that threatened to bubble up, pushing out a smile and straightening your posture. “I’m good. Believe it or not, I feel better than I did this morning. This is kind of my comfort store, so...”
“’Comfort store’?” he parroted, raising an eyebrow.
You chuckled, feeling a smidge self-conscious about opening up to a stranger, but Steve seemed like the sort of person you couldn’t help but confide in, the sort of person who would take what you said and tuck it in between his heart and left lung. “Yeah, my comfort store. When my siblings and I were younger, our aunt did a good amount of babysitting for our mom, and she would always drag us out shopping with her. She was always redecorating her place, so we went to IKEA a lot,” you explained, looking around at the furniture displays that surrounded you. “To pass the time while she shopped, we would play this game where we would go around to the different rooms they had set up and we’d pretend we were different people with different lives based on the room we were in. It was the best thing about coming here.” Those were some of the memories you held dear, remnants of a simpler time, or at least simpler than they were now.
When you looked back at Steve, his eyes were filled with something that left you feeling heady, a warmth that made it hard not to want his arms wrapped around you in the cool darkness of your room as snow piled up on your windowsill—
“Let’s play, then.”
You blinked at him. “What?”
“Let’s play,” Steve said again, gesturing to the displays. He gave you a boyish grin, one that made the thumping in your chest go faster. “I think we’ve got some time to kill before dinner’s ready,” he added.
You stared at him incredulously, your jaw hanging open a bit. “You wanna play the childhood game I played with my siblings?”
“Why not?” Steve shrugged, glancing up at you through those thick, gorgeous lashes. “Unless, of course, you know any other fun ways we can pass the time,” he said, a coquettish quirk lifting the edge of his lips.
It might have just been the harsh fluorescent lighting playing tricks on your eyes, but you swore there was a heat behind his gaze, a want behind his irises, and all executive function in your brain short-circuited.
Maybe you had actually hit your head getting down from that ladder and heaven just happened to look like a Swedish furniture store.
As quickly as the look came, it went, Steve jerking his thumb at one of the displays. “C’mon, we got nothing to lose,” he insisted, shooting you another dazzling grin and heading over there.
You helplessly followed after him, the two of you coming to a stop in one of the kitchen displays. Steve leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and considering the place before looking at you. “So,” he prompted, gesturing around. “What about this room? What’s our life like in here?”
He said it so casually, our life, as if you weren’t in the middle of your very first real conversation ever, as if the thought of spending the rest of eternity here in this store with you was something he wouldn’t bat an eye at. Warmth spread through you, but by some miracle you managed to smother it down before it reached your cheeks, averting your gaze from him to the décor around you.
You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, examining the kitchen you were in. It was modern looking, with obsidian marbled countertops, a stainless-steel sink with the appliances to match, and glossy black cabinets that were sleek and didn’t have handles. You thought for a moment, making a show of tapping a finger against your chin and narrowing your eyes while Steve looked on with an amused expression. You turned to him triumphantly.
“You’re a high-powered attorney,” you began confidently, trying to keep your grin at bay. “You make enough to pay for our Central Park penthouse and then some. In fact, you just made partner at your firm last month, and you said you would take me to Milan to celebrate.”
“Is that so?” Steve asked, struggling to keep his own face serious. “And what does my lovely wife do with her time?”
“ Wife,” you barked out, clearing your throat to compose yourself. If he noticed the heat spreading across your neck and face, he didn’t say anything. “Uh, yes, well I spend my days scanning your credit card on Fifth Avenue, hosting cocktail parties for the other wives at the club we’re members of,” you said, letting a giggle escape you at the image of being a stuck-up socialite. “The only time this kitchen has ever actually produced a meal was when we hired those caterers for John Mulaney’s second baby shower as a favor for a friend of a friend.”
Steve laughed, shaking his head at you, his crystalline irises beaming in a way that made your breath catch a little. You had the passing thought that you would do practically anything to hear the sound of his laugh over and over again.
“Alright,” he said, all business again. “What aboooout...this one?” he asked, leading you over to the next kitchen display, placing a light hand on the small of your back.
The small contact made fireworks ignite through your entire body, and he pulled away far too soon, pulling out a chair at the cherry red vinyl table in the middle of the kitchen and gesturing for you to sit. You smiled at him, and you realized how easy it was to smile at him, how easy it would be to peel back your outer shell and offer him every ounce of joy you had to give.
“Thank you, honey,” you quipped, pushing the thought away and keeping up the little game you two were in. That’s all it is, just a game, you reminded yourself.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Steve responded in kind as he took the seat across from you, crossing his arms over the table and leaning in towards you. “Whatcha got? Lay it on me,” he urged.
You laughed, taking a look around before deciding on what life this room would hold. The floor was covered in black and white linoleum tiles, the cabinets were a soft mint green, and there was a retro SMEG refrigerator in the corner, circa 1944. You crossed your own arms on the table and looked right at Steve, a surge of boldness allowing you to lean closer to him, too.
“We got married right before the invasion of Poland,” you began, letting the image unfold from your mind. “You enlisted as soon as you could, and there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t worry about you. I got a job at a factory manufacturing sheet metal that helps us stay afloat,” you said, making the “Rosie the Riveter” pose. Steve chuckled, but didn’t interrupt. “Your mom lives just up the block, and she comes over every evening in hopes that I’ll pick up some cooking skills. She even tried to teach me the family cookie recipe, but I failed miserably,” you concluded.
You were ready to laugh at yourself, the very real image of your kitchen nightmares running across your mind, but it died in your throat at the look on Steve’s face. His smile had fallen, replaced by a grim line and a tight jaw. His eyes dimmed and darkened, a storm pulling 50-foot waves around his pupils, his gaze firmly fixed on the tabletop.
Your mouth suddenly felt too dry. “Steve? Are you okay?”
He took a sharp breath before finally looking up at you, his lips just barely upturned. “Yeah,” he said, his voice wispy and far off. “Yeah, I’m fine. What you said just reminded me of when I was younger. My mom was a nurse, so she had crazy hours most of the time, but more often than not she would manage to pull through for school functions,” he said, and some of the light returned to his eyes, though he still looked far away. “Especially bake sales. It was important to her, even though she already wore herself so thin, and the other moms judged her for not always being there.
“She would let me stay up late the night before and help her make her famous brownies. ‘Forever’ Brownies, she called them, because people always told her they could keep eating them and never stop,” he breathed out a laugh, but it sounded achingly hollow. “She said the key was her super special secret ingredient, and I wasn’t allowed to tell a soul what it was. She made me pinky swear,” he said, trying to play it off as something funny, but you could tell it meant everything to him. His entire heart was on his sleeve, exposed and beating in sync with his words, and you felt like you were bearing witness to something you shouldn’t have been.
You hesitated, drawing in a deep breath. “Is she...did she...”
Steve nodded, saving you from the rest of that question. “Two days before my high school graduation. Cancer,” he explained, and his grief was so palpable that you felt pinpricks in your nose and a boulder in your throat.
“I’m so sorry, Steve,” you whispered, because there wasn’t anything else you could say, there wasn’t anything you could do to fill that void for him, to take away that pain even though every string in your own heart yearned to.
Steve shook his head a little, pushing out a wide grin that didn’t quite reach the rest of his face. “Don’t be. She was a good woman.”
You grinned back at him. “Well, I already knew that,” you said, and his brow furrowed with confusion. You just shrugged, looking down at your hands. “She obviously raised a good man.”
It was silent for a long moment, the air thick with everything the two of you had spilled into it, heavy with all the things you didn’t dare say. When you glanced up at Steve, he was already looking at you, so intently, so intensely, that you swore there wasn’t enough oxygen in the whole world to inflate your lungs at that moment.
“You know,” he began, his voice unsteady, splintered and cracked at the edges. “I don’t really talk about her that much. With anyone.”
You knew what he meant without him saying it. That he had given you a small piece of himself, even though you were a stranger, that he trusted you enough to take a small sapling from the branches of his heart and plant it into your palm.
Maybe he felt it too, that magnetic pull you had felt towards him since the moment you met only hours ago. Or maybe you were just a stranger, a person with no stakes that could carry a secret with no true meaning.
You brushed aside the thought, stuffing down the emotions buzzing between the layers of your skin, giving him your best smile. “Well, thank you for sharing her with me. Come on, we can try another,” you insisted, getting up and urging him along to the next display.
He hesitated for a moment, his brow still furrowed as if he were trying to piece something together, but he shook it off, joining you at the center of the next kitchen, leaning against the island counter.
This kitchen was a little more rustic, with a faux stone wall on one side and wooden countertops. Copper pots hung from various hooks, and a pair of glass doors opened up to a backyard setting, complete with a picnic table and fake plants.
You thought for a moment, taking in every detail carefully before speaking. “We decided to take a gamble and move abroad to a cottage in the French countryside, where you work at a small vineyard that makes the best wine in town, and where I’m a local beat reporter who famously broke the news of the three-legged calf that was born at the dairy farm up the way,” you decided, looking to Steve for his input.
He had a soft grin on his face, as if he were picturing that charmed life, him coming home with grape-stained hands and fresh duck for roasting, and you pouring over notes at the picnic table for the article you were supposed to write.
“France, huh?” was all he offered with a honeyed smile, albeit a bit subdued.
You fought that heady feeling again. “Yeah. Not bad for a home, right?”
He looked at you silently for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, searching to find purchase, something to hold onto. “Je pense que tant que je suis avec toi, je serai toujours à la maison,” he said quietly, his gaze steady on yours. There was a weight behind what he had said, you could tell by his tone, and you could feel that weight curl down your spine and pool at your feet in a way that made the hairs on your body stand on end.
You shook your head slowly at him, catching the corner of your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t know what you just said, but I’m gonna need you to say it again,” you told him with a wry grin. “Just like that, too.”
You were almost too satisfied to see a tinge of pink coat his ears, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he looked down at his shoes. You laughed, giving him a slight nudge just to bring back the joking nature of the game, to shake off the growing density surrounding your heart. “I’m pretty sure it’s your turn now, dear husband,” you singsonged, placing your hands on your hips and looking up at him expectantly.
He pointed at himself incredulously. “ My turn?”
“Absolutely, yes,” you said matter-of-factly. “I wanna know what your mind is made of, or if I just married another pretty face,” you added with a smirk.
He glared at you playfully, hardly able to keep his grin from spreading before he abruptly pushed off from the counter, walking straight towards the main aisle again. You laughed, hurrying after him as he scanned the displays on either side, pausing occasionally before shaking his head, as if he were looking for something in particular. You were about to ask him what his M.O. was, when he finally slowed, his gaze fixed on a certain display.
When you caught up to him, you could see it was one of those sets that were made to look like a tiny apartment or house, a fully furnished living room connected to a bedroom and the matching bath. The living was filled with warm colors, one wall made entirely of polished wood, lined with bookshelves and a fireplace with fake flames flickering. The couch was styled in a way that made it look a little worn, as if it had already seen a bunch of love instead of coming straight from a factory. There was a small coffee table with two empty mugs on it and a cute pot of flowers. The rug looked decadent and soft, an invitation for you to take off your shoes and dig your toes into it.
You looked over at Steve, and he looked over at you, the two of you sharing a smile cut from the same cloth. You plopped down on the couch and he followed suit, resting his arm just behind you along its edge.
“So, what’s our life in here?” you asked quietly, shifting your leg just a bit until it touched his. His hand found your shoulder, his fingers languidly following its curve up and down. He let out a long, pensive, breath before he seemed to settle on something, a dreamy sort of look hazing over his features.
“I’m a teacher,” he began, and by the way he said it so assuredly, you knew he was telling you the truth, not a fantasy he had conjured up. “An art teacher at the middle school not too far from here. It’s not exactly what I thought I’d be doing with my fine arts degree but...I don’t think I’d trade it for the world,” he said, grinning softly at you. “What about you?”
You smiled back at him, and he pulled you in a little closer to his side, enough to make your heart stutter. “I work at a bookstore,” you told him, telling the truth back to him. “Not exactly what I thought I’d be doing after college, but it makes sense for me to be surrounded by books all day. Kinda where I belong.”
He hummed appreciatively, taking another look around, his thumb sweeping slowly across your collarbone. The two of you sat there for a moment in silence, nothing but the distant rumble of the HVAC system filling in the space. It was almost scary how comfortable you felt, how settled and at home you felt when you were nowhere near home at all. And this time, you didn’t fight the feeling, you didn’t scold yourself for getting too involved in this game, too involved with him. You just sat in it, and allowed yourself to indulge and succumb to the syrupy sweet haven you had found in the middle of a storm.
“You know, I bet if we knock down that BOGO sale sign, we’d have enough space for a couple more bedrooms,” Steve joked, nodding at the cardboard fixture a few paces in front of you.
“A couple?” you chuckled. “Will we be expecting a lot of guests, dear?”
He scrunched up his nose, a small smirk on his lips. “Guests, maybe. I was thinking more along the lines of the pattering of tiny feet.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? And I assume those tiny feet are attached to tiny humans?”
“Right. And how many of those tiny humans are we talking about?”
He thought for a second. “Five.”
“ Five,” you snorted, pulling away from him to get a good look at his face. “Two, at most. I’m not a womb factory.”
Steve laughed, shaking his head slowly at you. “Can we at least compromise at three?” he bargained, pouting a little.
You looked at him, the slope of his nose, the curve of his cheeks, the twinkle in his eyes. Those eyes. You were lost at sea, surrounded by nothing but the shade of blue only the man in front of you could offer, and you could only hope no one would throw you a life preserver.
“Deal,” you said, barely over a whisper. “But only if they have your eyes.”
His gaze swept over your face, his hand trailing up from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “As long as they have your smile, I’m good,” he whispered back, looking down at your lips for a moment too long.
Your head was spinning, and you could have sworn his face had inched closer to yours. Your own gaze found his lips, and you had the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you and him, to find out how they would feel against your skin, how he would taste—
“Hey there, dinner’s ready!”
You and Steve jolted back as if you had touched scalding water, looking up to find the kid from earlier, Parker, standing not too far off, smiling enthusiastically at you and Steve. It took him a moment to recognize your flustered looks, the tinge of red across Steve’s face, and the heat blazing on yours. Parker’s smile faltered a little, his hands wringing together in front of him. “Um, was I interrupting something...”
“No,” Steve was quick to say, smoothing back his hair hastily and getting up, offering you a hand to do the same. “We’re right behind you.”
“Great!” Peter said, giving you a double thumbs up, though his smile was still unsure, zipping around and heading down the aisle towards the café. You and Steve followed after him, your head still spinning from what just happened, and what might have happened, had there been no interruption.
By the time you made it to the dinner table, you had managed to school yourself into something resembling normal, but Wanda wouldn’t be fooled.
“Having fun?” she asked as you sat down across from her, smirking at you in between a bite of Swedish meatballs. She glanced over at Steve, who found a seat at the other end of the table near Bruce, wiggling her eyebrows at you pointedly.
You just gave her a look, grabbing another bread roll and taking a big bite of it, hoping to swallow down the smile that threatened to splice your face. You couldn’t help it; your eyes slid over to the other end of the table, watching as Steve laughed at something Bruce had said, the fluorescent bulb over his seat making his hair look even more golden and radiant, as if there really were a halo crowning his head. His eye caught yours, and his smile grew wider, stealing a few more seconds to look at you before he was drawn back into the conversation.
Your stomach did flips, which didn’t bode well for the meatballs you had scarfed down, and you did everything you could to avoid Wanda’s sly expression for the rest of the meal.
The movie that had been decided on was It’s a Wonderful Life, the whole group migrating to the projector setup you and Wanda constructed earlier. Wanda went up front to help Bruce put on the movie, and you decided on where to sit. You weren’t too keen on holiday films, so you chose one towards the back, far enough away from people that the glow of your phone wouldn’t disturb anyone during the film. The lights were dimmed, and you were just about to open Instagram when a deep, smooth voice cut in.
“I hope this seat isn’t taken,” Steve said, swiftly claiming the seat next to you despite the rest of the row being vacant. He kept his attention trained on the screen ahead, but there was an unmistakably impish grin on his face.
You wet your lips, pressing them together to contain your own grin. “Not at all, it’s yours to take,” you said, a gleeful tingle traveling across your skin.
The two of you were close again, though you weren’t touching, only a hairsbreadth between you. You wanted to close that space, to feel his skin on yours again, but you weren’t sure if that would fly now. You weren’t playing a game, you weren’t pretending to be husband and wife, but you didn’t want to let go of the fantasy just yet. For once, you wanted to take a risk, to take a dive without a parachute, so you inched your leg closer to his until the tips of your knees touched. You were sure your chest was going to explode.
For a moment he did nothing in response, seemingly unaffected as he kept watching the film. You were about to pull your knee away again in defeat, when he shifted his arm, resting it against yours so that the entire length of his was flushed against the entire length of yours. You took a deep breath and stretched your pinky ever so slightly until it rested against his, curling your tiny digit around his.
Again, he made no acknowledgment of your gesture right away, and you were about to run screaming for hills in shame when he lifted his entire hand, and in one fell swoop, gathered your hand into his, your fingers locked together like a braid. You glanced up at him and he was still focused on the screen, but his chest rose and fell as if he had just run a mile in the snow, his face spliced by a wide grin.
“Okay everyone, now’s a good time as any to get to sleep,” Bruce said after the movie concluded and the lights went up again. Steve was still holding your hand with no signs of letting go. “You have your pick of the beds here. The sheets are perfectly clean, so...first come, first serve, I guess,” he announced, gesturing around vaguely.
People began to get up, already looking around for a suitable place to sleep, and you shared a look with Steve, a reckless and coltish spark dancing around the rims of his pupils.
You both knew exactly where to go.
Without a word, you got up, hand in hand, laughing like school children as you ran down the main aisle, heading straight for the makeshift marital home Steve had found before anyone else could lay claim to it. You laughed until you made it there, falling back onto the bed in a gasping heap, hands still clutching onto each other as you smiled up at the ceiling.
Eventually, the laughter died down, replaced by a carbonated, nervous energy that fizzled and zipped between the two of you, the realization of the situation you faced hitting you both at the same time. It was only then that Steve let go of your hand reluctantly, sliding his palm against yours until it released, sitting up and running it through his hair like you’d seen him do plenty of time today.
He glanced down at you shyly, letting out a nervous chuckle. “I’ll take the couch,” he offered, patting the bed before standing up stiffly, as if his body and mind were working in different directions.
You sat up, shaking your head at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. Why wouldn’t I share a bed with my lovely husband?” you joked, eliciting another chuckle from him. “But seriously, I mean, this bed looks plenty big for the both of us, and that couch is pretty lumpy,” you said, bracing yourself for rejection.
He hesitated before nodding slowly. “Okay. I promise to keep to my side,” he said with a wink.
You swallowed down the scream that erupted internally, instead pushing out a dramatic sigh, smoothing your hand over the duvet, which was surprisingly soft for a display bed. “It’s just gonna suck sleeping in jeans,” you said, looking down at the dark wash denim you had chosen that morning. If you had known how your day was going to end up, you would have chosen a pair of comfy leggings.
“Well, you can take them off.”
Your gaze shot back up to Steve and he blanched, immediately regretting his choice of words.
“I just meant—I mean,” he stuttered, looking down at the floor as if he were asking it to swallow him whole like you had earlier. “We’re gonna be under the covers anyway, we wouldn’t— I wouldn’t see anything—”
“Steve,” you giggled, saving him from himself. “I get what you mean. That actually sounds like a great idea,” you assured him, getting up from the bed. He looked relieved to hear you say that, giving you a sheepish grin which you returned. After a moment, though, you raised your eyebrows expectantly, and he got the hint, turning around quickly and covering his eyes with his hands.
You unbuttoned your jeans, heat rushing to your face even though he couldn’t see you. It had been a while since you had taken your pants off in the presence of a man, and even then, you had never done so with a man who looked like he belonged standing on a pedestal in the middle of the Louvre. You just thanked your lucky stars that you had thrown on a pair of your good underwear that morning.
You got under the covers and told him it was safe, covering your own eyes as he rid himself of his own pants, the mattress dipping down when he slid in after you. Just then, the lights in the whole store went out, save for the emergency exit signs and stray lamps that cast a soft, red glow around everything.
“Have a good night, shoppers! Breakfast will be available in the morning when you wake up, seven a.m. sharp,” Bruce’s voice rang out over the intercom, a bit of feedback trailing after his voice.
You sank a little lower into the sheets and turned onto your side, pulling the duvet up to your chin and hoping Steve couldn’t hear the hammering against your rib cage. “It’s freezing in here,” you said, just to say anything.
“Yeah, according to Wanda, upper management controls the thermostat, even in a snowstorm,” he said, and you could feel him sit up a little. “I can go find some extra blankets—”
“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly. “Besides, can’t afford to lose your body heat now,” you added in a weak attempt at humor.
He huffed out a laugh, and you could feel just a bit of his breath fan over the back of your neck. “In that case, maybe I should move closer, if we’re sharing body heat and all.”
“Maybe you should,” you said, the words flying out before you could even think. You decided then that you had, in fact, met your demise at some point during the day, because there was no earthly way this was happening to you. Nope, you were definitely deceased.
Slowly, Steve shifted closer to you until his chest was pressed against your back, your figure dwarfed by his big, warm body bordering yours. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice so close to your ear that it drew a shiver up your spine.
“Yes,” you breathed, your pulse thrumming in your throat.
You felt his arm snake slowly over you, coming to rest over your waist, drawing you even closer to him. “How about this?”
You could only nod in response, your vocal cords lending all their willpower to help your lungs expand. It felt more than just okay, to be in his arms like this. It felt right, like this was where you were meant to be, like every small decision you made that day, and the day before, the years before, led you up to this very moment. It felt so right that you forgot how wrong it was to feel this way, about a man you had only known for twelve hours, a man whose last name you didn’t even know.
“Coffee,” Steve said suddenly, knocking you out of the delirium you were in.
“My mother’s super-secret brownie ingredient,” he explained, his voice heavy and laden with the memory. “She would add a splash of freshly brewed coffee to the batter. Apparently, it complimented the chocolate flavors.”
You smiled, wider than you had in a while. “I thought you couldn’t tell a soul.”
You felt him shrug, the tip of his nose tracing the curve of your neck lightly. “I don’t think she’d mind if I told you,” he said, giving you another piece of himself.
Your chest splintered, your heart straining to escape the cage of your ribs and find a new home right next to his. You turned in his arms, careful not to stray too far, your face only inches from his on the pillow. You reached up and twined your fingers delicately into his hair, and it felt even better than you had imagined it would.
“Tell me more about her,” you whispered, his hand trailing up and down your back lusciously.
You made out his smile in the dim glow, the current of his endless irises cradling you farther out to sea with no way back.
You woke up to the sound of jazz music.
It was seeping out of the sound system, broadcasting over the entire store, filling the air with soft saxophone and notes of piano. It took you a moment to remember where you were until you recognized the broad chest under your cheek, the heavy arm splayed across your middle.
“Bruce has immaculate taste,” Steve said, his early morning timbre reverberating through you.
You hummed amusingly, letting yourself indulge in the soft cotton of his shirt before propping yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. He smiled at you lazily, his eyes hooded as if he were still in the middle of a dream, reaching up to brush his thumb over your chin.
“Good news everyone,” Bruce’s voice crackled in, interrupting the music. “The plows came overnight, and your cars were dug out. Thanks for hanging in there with us here at your local IKEA. At this point, you’re all eligible for our friends-and-family discount,” he quipped before the jazz continued.
That should have been good news, but it made your stomach drop down to your toes, dread slowly rising through you.
The snow was gone, which meant that this whole thing was over, that everyone could walk away and leave the store, going on with their lives as if it all never happened, just an odd memory to keep in the back of their heads until they needed a cool story to tell at a party.
You weren’t ready for it to be over. You weren’t sure you had the strength to walk out those doors and leave this experience behind. To leave him behind.
“Looks like we made it,” Steve said, though he sounded more somber than he should have.
“Looks like we did,” you said back, tracing your thumb along his jaw, mirroring the path he made on your own skin.
There was too much to say, or perhaps too little, you couldn’t tell. Either way, the dream you had found yourself in since last afternoon was over, the enchantment broken, reality already setting in like a dark shroud over the morning. The two of you just looked at each other, studying every line and facet of each other, committing them to memory and tracing hidden messages on each other with your fingers, hoping the other could find a way to decipher them.
Someone cleared their throat. “Hate to intrude, but I feel the need to tell you the store has a ‘you bang on it, you buy it’ policy for the merchandise.”
You and Steve snapped away from each other, sitting up to find Wanda leaning in the false doorway of the room, an eyebrow raised at the two of you.
“Good morning, Wanda,” Steve grumbled, glaring at her as he got up and passed you your pants to slip on under the covers.
“I would say the same, but I know you’re having a good morning, Steven,” she said, sending you the most shit-eating grin you had ever seen. You glared at her too, but she was unaffected. “Breakfast is ready, if you two are interested. I warmed up the cinnamon rolls myself.”
“Sounds good, can’t wait to dig in,” you said, but you couldn’t recognize your own voice, standing to button your jeans and avoiding eye contact with Steve.
“You okay?” Wanda asked, far too perceptive, a wrinkle forming between her brows as she regarded you.
You looked at her and forced out a smile you hoped was convincing enough. “Of course I am. I’m right as rain,” you said, but she didn’t look like she was buying it. A quick glance at Steve told you he wasn’t buying it either, concern laced across both their faces.
You shook your head at the both of them, nudging Wanda with your hip as you scooted past her in the doorway. “I really am, now let’s go eat.”
And that’s exactly what the three of you did, sitting along with the others in the café, laughing off the last remaining moments of the weirdest night of all your lives. You could hardly taste the cinnamon rolls though, and you couldn’t find it in you to take a cup of coffee, the drink taking on a new meaning for you that left you feeling a bit hollow as the minutes passed.
It didn’t take long for everyone to find their way out, spilling out into the parking lot and packing their trunks with the things they had bought the day before. You, Steve, and Wanda loitered at the doors, saying your final goodbyes.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Wanda said, giving you a warm hug which you returned in kind.
“I won’t be,” you said, giving her a squeeze before letting go.
“Do you need a ride too?” Steve jumped in, his hands stuffed in his pockets, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Or I could walk you to your car...”
“No, I can manage,” you assured him, smiling even though your heart was tying a noose for itself with your small intestine.
There was an awkward, heavy beat where no one said anything, You and Steve just looking at each other, Wanda looking at the two of you looking at each other. You were the first to gather yourself, adjusting the strap of your bag and giving them a small wave.
“Bye, guys. Maybe I’ll see you around during another blizzard,” you joked, though it fell flat.
“Yeah, maybe,” Steve said, his jaw clenching as he waved back.
You gave them both one last smile, turning and finally stepping outside, the cold air nipping at your ears and cheeks. You were aware of every step you took, each one taking you closer to your car, to you your apartment, to your home, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that home was no longer a place for you, that you had accidentally laid your roots down at the feet of an angel you would never see again.
You turned to find Steve jogging to catch up to you, the tip of his nose already pink from the cold. He stopped a few feet in front of you, sighing with a sort of helpless expression, his shoulders sagging as if he wanted to make himself smaller somehow. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally spoke.
“I’m an idiot,” he blurted out, shaking his head more at himself than you. “A smack on the back of the head from Wanda reminded me of that,” he added, rubbing at the spot with a cringe.
The tips of your fingers felt numb, but it had nothing to do with the cold. “And why are you an idiot?” you asked him quietly, cursing the hope that rose in your belly.
“For letting you walk away from me like that,” he said earnestly, taking a few steps closer to you. His hand twitched a little, clenching into a fist as if he were stopping himself from reaching out to you. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t want us to end, if there even is an ‘us.’ But I want there to be,” he said unsteadily, lifting his shoulders towards his ears. “I really want to see you again. Is that crazy?”
Suddenly, you couldn’t feel the cold anymore, warmth blooming through you like a furnace. You took a few steps back towards him, your heart tugging you along. “No, it’s not crazy. I want to see you again, too,” you told him, your cheeks aching from the way your lips stretched into them.
He smiled back at you, and you swore the clouds parted just a little, the sky becoming just a little brighter. “Really?”
“Really,” you laughed, shaking your head at him.
He let out a long huff of air, glancing up at you through his lashes. “I should probably get your number then, before Wanda tackles me to the ground,” he said, extending his phone towards you.
You put it in, adding ‘from IKEA’ next to your name for good measure, though you had a feeling he wouldn’t need it. You handed it back to him, and your fingers lingered together for a second longer than necessary.
“I’ll call you,” he promised, stuffing it back into his pocket.
“I look forward to it,” you said, grinning at him. “Bye, Steve.”
“Bye, Y/n,” he repeated, giving you another small wave.
You turned reluctantly, your feet feeling so light that you might have floated off into the sky if it weren’t for the weight of your shoes. You stopped short, turning back to face the store. Steve was still there, standing where you had left him.
“Forgot something,” you said, gesturing towards the store.
“Yeah, I did,” he said tightly, his jaw set, his expression determined. With three long strides, he gathered you into his arms, bracketing your face between his hands and placing his lips over yours.
The kiss was soft and slow, wisps of cinnamon and sugar mingling between your tongues. His lips moved eagerly over yours, though not without gentleness, taking in as much of you as he could, consuming entirely as if you were the first breath of air after drowning.
It was a while before he pulled away, his forehead resting on yours, both of you gasping for breath.
“I meant,” you said when you trusted your voice, looking up at him. “I just meant that I forgot the mail basket I paid for yesterday.”
He smiled, his eyes inventing the color blue right before you, a laugh dancing at the edge of his lips, one that you caught with your own.
The French translates to (according to Google): I think as long as I'm with you, I'll always be home.
Sarah's Brownie Recipe
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Summary: Most people would be in tears over the way Steve Rogers treats you, cutting you down for the tiniest mistake... but not you. The meaner he is, the more turned on you get. Too bad your kink isn’t as secret as you think. [Slight D/s themes, kinda mean Steve that’s really just horny Steve, and explicit sexual content (oral male receiving and fingering), 18+]
Pairing: Steve Rogers x PR Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.3k
Author’s Note: Inspired by this post here. Thank you @emmabarnes for beta’ing this. Reblog or comment if you enjoy!
Steve Rogers Masterlist
“Oh my god,” Mary whispers. “What an ass.”
“I don’t know why he always seems to pick on you. It wasn’t even your fault and he singled you out,” Daria adds watching the man in question walk away with a frown. “Captain America or not, next time he does it I’m going to say something.”
“It’s ok, really,” you say, trying to assure them.
The last thing you want is to bring attention to Steve’s treatment of you, afraid someone might realize you’re not quite as upset as you should be. You still feel a little warm all over at the memory of how he’d leaned into your space, his normally bright blue eyes dark when he berated you for the scheduling mix up a junior member of the team made. You know the way your body responds to him is not normal. If anyone else spoke to you that way you’d be in tears but when it’s him, the only emotion you feel is desire.
It’s a little pathetic how much you want him to bend you over the table in the conference room, hold you down by the back of your neck and fuck you raw. You shake your head to clear the thought. You’ve been reading too many of those questionable dark romance novels lately and it’s bleeding into your everyday thoughts. Steve isn’t secretly harboring feelings for you. He clearly doesn’t think much of you at all.
“It doesn’t bother me,” you tell the girls. “Better me than Alicia.”
“If you say so,” Mary says, thinking about your younger coworker who was actually responsible. “I still think you should say something.”
“Maybe. Come on, let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”
You’re headed back to your office, chatting with Mary about the latest episode of Ted Lasso when you spot Steve lingering outside your door. He’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s three sizes too small and loose grey sweatpants, hair mussed from his workout. He looks pissed off and Jesus it shouldn’t make your mouth go dry but it does.
“We need to talk,” he tells you. “I just got the press junket info from your office and once again it’s full of errors.”
You know this means there’s probably just a typo or that Steve isn’t happy you’ve scheduled him to talk with Buzzfeed again. He hates their lead reporter because she spends most of the interview giggling at everything he says but she’s got enough of a following online to be impactful and you don't want to cut her out.
“Of course Captain Rogers,” you say. Mary shoots you a sympathetic look and scurries off.
“What did you want to talk about?” You ask Steve as he follows you into your office, closing the door behind him.
“This,” he says, throwing the stack of papers at your desk. A few stray ones flutter to the floor, but Steve's annoyed expression stays centered on you. “I’m not talking to that ‘journalist’ again. She doesn’t give two shits about the vaccination campaign, she just wants a selfie with me. Get me on Good Morning America again.”
“That’s Sam’s slot,” you tell him, bending to pick up the papers on the floor. “If you don’t want to talk with Buzzfeed, you don’t have to. I’ll give it to Scott.”
“What I want is for you to do your damn job. I don’t like wasting my time talking about the same thing with you every few weeks.”
“There’s no need to be rude,” you tell him, dropping to your knees to reach for an errant paper that’s half stuck under your desk.
“Of course there is,” Steve says. “I can see how much you get off on it.”
You freeze, eyes going wide as you look up at him. Heat shoots up your spine when you realize the position you’re in, kneeling at his feet. You lick your lips, mouth suddenly dry. He towers over you and for a brief moment you feel small and insignificant.
“Excuse me?” You ask, mortified. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”
“You do,” Steve says, voice dropping an octave as he stares down at you. “I hear how your heartbeat picks up, see the way your pulse jumps under your skin every time I’m even just a little mean to you. I can even smell you,” he adds with a smirk, nostrils flaring. “You like it.”
“Captain. This is i-inappropriate,” you start, trying to rise to your feet but a firm hand on your shoulder keeps you on your knees. Without permission, your gaze jumps to his crotch. You look away quickly but not before you hear Steve’s little laugh.
“I’ll admit I felt bad the first time it happened. You caught me on a bad day, I’m normally better than that at controlling my emotions. The second time was a test, both of us alone in that hallway. You tried to look mad but I knew then. You pressed your thighs together and did that breathy little inhale...” he says, expression soft. “That’s the one,” he adds when your lips part with an unsteady breath.
The hand at your shoulder rises to cup your cheek. His fingers are large and warm against your skin. Your eyes flutter closed at the contact.
“Tell me you want this,” he whispers. “Need you to say it.”
“It’s ok,” he assures you, thumb stroking your cheek softly. “There’s no judgment if you want it. I do too.”
Your eyes snap open at his comment and you can’t help the vulnerable way your brows raise as you gaze up at him.
“You want me?”
“Mmm,” he confirms. “Need you to say it, sweetheart. I don’t want any misunderstanding.”
“I want it,” you admit quietly, rewarded when Steve’s hand slides around the back of your neck and his grip tightens.
“Good girl,” he praises.
You raise your chin, head falling back in a sign of submission that has him inhaling sharply. He may have your number but you’re not blind to his reactions now that you know the score either. He’s kept you on your knees for a reason and judging from the slight tent in his pants he’s not as unaffected as he wants to appear.
“Who would have thought the buttoned up PR girl likes the kinky stuff,” Steve says with a grin.
“Probably the same people that know you’ve got an authority kink,” you return.
“Don’t get mouthy,” Steve warns, expression darkening. His harsh grip on your neck makes you gasp and arch your back. “Keep talking like that and I’ll put your mouth to better use.”
His threat sends a thrill through you and you squirm, trying to ease the ache between your legs.
“Ohh, scary,” you say with a giggle, biting your lip in anticipation when Steve growls.
“You better put some respect in your voice when you talk to me or there will be consequences.”
“Yes, Captain,” you say, sobering up immediately when he steps closer to you and angles your head back, his crotch nearly brushing your face.
You both stare at each other for a long moment, a quick flash of something like concern passing through Steve’s eyes.
“This ok?” He asks, expression turning soft.
“Yeah,” you whisper, shoulders dropping at the tenderness in his gaze. “I’ll tell you if it’s not.”
He smiles and leans down to kiss you sweetly. “Gonna take you out properly after this,” he murmurs against your lips.
“After this?” You ask, feeling breathless.
“Don’t worry,” Steve says, straightening back to his full height as the gentle look on his face evaporates. “I’ll return the favor. That is assuming you can suck my cock as good as I think you can.”
You don’t resist when he brings your face in contact with his crotch, rubbing himself on you until the fabric of his pants grows damp with precum.
“Come on, where’s that smart mouth now, huh? You can face down Fox News without blinking, I think you can take me down that pretty little throat too.”
You reach for his waistband with trembling hands, pulling his sweatpants down enough for his thick cock to spring free. He’s just as big as you imagined and the sight has your mouth parting in anticipation. There’s a small, rational part of your brain that’s telling you to stop and think about what you’re about to do. You’re not the type of person to do this, especially not in the middle of the workday but it’s hard to remember why you shouldn’t when you look at Steve’s flushed face.
“That’s it,” he purrs, pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.
You draw him in instinctively, sucking gently on his sensitive head. He groans, low in his throat and the hand at the back of your neck urges you to take more. You concentrate on breathing through your nose as he slowly forces more of himself down your throat until your nose is against his muscled stomach. You swallow, eyes watering but with the noises he’s making you don’t want to pull away.
“Fuck, such a good girl. Taking me like that,” he praises. “I could stay in that warm little throat all day.”
When you make a choked-off sound he pulls back, brows furrowed but you’re quick to give him a reassuring smile. You grasp the base of his cock and work him over eagerly, relishing the quiet sounds he makes in response. There’s a fluttery kind of ache building in your core. Anticipation for what he’s going to do to you after has you moaning around him.
“I’m close,” he gasps.
You relax your jaw, hands falling to his muscular thighs as you let him take control. He fucks into your mouth with quick, shallow thrusts. This time when you gag he doesn’t stop, dark eyes watching your face carefully. You know he’s making a mess of your lipstick, the deep red color smeared along his cock. You think he’s about to come when he stills but then suddenly he jerks away. Before you can ask what’s wrong there’s a knock at your door. You stare at Steve, terrified as reality comes crashing back down.
“Hey, it’s time for our 2 pm meeting,” Daria says, her voice slightly muffled by the door.
You don’t have a meeting scheduled but you know Mary probably told her Steve showed up at your office and she’s trying to help. You love how protective she can be but right now is the worst possible timing. You clear your throat, pointedly not looking at Steve when you speak.
“I-I’ll have to miss it,” you say, wincing at how unsteady your voice sounds. “I am helping Captain Rogers with an issue.”
You hear what sounds suspiciously like furious whispers and Steve’s lips turn down in a frown. He can probably hear them, you realize. When you shoot him a look he shakes his head and quickly tucks himself away but his sweatpants do nothing to hide the outline of his erection. He helps you to your feet gently and pulls you close.
“They’re gonna insist on coming in,” he whispers, reaching out to wipe away saliva that’s gathered on the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about your lipstick,” he adds, wetting his thumb and using it to rub away any sign of what just happened. Heat rises to your cheeks with the intimate action.
“I really need to speak with you,” Daria says. “I am sure Captain Rogers understands you have more to do than just help him.”
“One minute,” you call out, peeking over Steve’s shoulder to catch your reflection in the small mirror by the door.
You pat down your hair and Steve scrambles to sit in the chair in front of your desk, grabbing a binder to hold over his lap. At your amused expression, he raises his brows and shifts uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
When you open the door, Mary’s anxious face greets you and Daria’s expression hardens.
“Are you crying?” Mary asks, her sweet face filled with so much concern that you can’t help but feel guilty. “Did he make you cry?”
“No, everything’s fine,” you tell her like you weren’t just gagging on his cock 30 seconds ago.
“The fuck it is,” Daria says, shouldering past you.
She comes to stand before Steve, with Mary and you quick on her heels. He is clutching the binder to his lap tightly enough that his knuckles are bone white.
“Captain Rogers, I am not sure how you run things in your department, but in mine, we do not treat coworkers so poorly.”
Steve’s expression is almost comical, his eyes wide and mouth slack as his gaze darts between you and Daria. You’ve never seen your boss so fired up before and it’s almost awe-inspiring how she dresses Steve down. By the time she’s done, he looks like an errant schoolboy, face flushed, fidgeting in the chair.
“Do you have something to say for yourself?” She asks him, hands on her hips. “I won’t hesitate to escalate this.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve says, shifting to face you. Your gaze drops to the binder on his lap and your lips twitch. “You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”
“Thank you, Captain Rogers,” you tell him. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning. He looks so vulnerable, hunched over in your chair.
“Thank you,” Daria says with a pleased little smile. “Moving forward I expect the same level of respect to remain in place.”
“It will,” Steve tells her with a firm nod.
“Wonderful.” With that, she takes a step back and looks pointedly at the door.
Steve’s expression falters, a hint of panic surfacing in his eyes.
“We should get to that meeting,” you say, thankful when Mary chimes in with a noise of agreement. “I am sure Captain Rogers would like a moment to uh, collect his thoughts.”
“Yes, that would be good. I need to think long and hard about my actions.”
“Very well. Until next time,” Daria says with a nod.
Steve gives a strained smile and you shoot him an apologetic look over your shoulder, following your coworkers into the hallway.
When you return from the ‘meeting’ your office is empty, not that you expected Steve to remain behind. The rest of your workday passes slowly and you’re left looking up hopefully anytime someone drops by but it’s never him. At 5 pm you pack up, declining Mary’s invitation for after-work drinks to celebrate your boss's response to Steve. Part of you feels guilty for how everything went down.
You scream at the unexpected voice and instinctively throw your purse at the figure that emerges from the shadows of the car park.
“Ah, shit. Sorry,” Steve says, bending down to grab your wallet and makeup bag, which have fallen out of your purse. “We need to work on your self-defense skills,” he adds with a frown.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you say, hand pressed to your chest, trying to calm the frantic beat of your heart.
“I don’t have your number, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate getting an email about this.” Steve rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“That would probably give Daria a stroke,” you agree with a grin. “I’m sorry about how everything happened. That was… embarrassing.”
“Just a little,” Steve says with a laugh. “But uh, I wanted to make sure you’re ok.”
“I am,” you tell him, warmed by the concern you see in his eyes. “How’s your... situation?” You ask, with a pointed look.
Steve gives you a little half smile and glances around the empty parking garage before stepping closer.
“Pretty dire,” he says, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Gonna need those pretty lips wrapped around my cock again.” He crowds you against your car, hard body pressing into your softer one and you clutch at his biceps. The sudden shift from his sweet, bashful smile to this dark, wanting one is dizzying and it makes your stomach flip pleasantly. “Did such a poor fucking job earlier,” he starts, tone low and a little mean. “If you’d been better, you’d have a belly full of me and I wouldn’t be aching so bad. What do you have to say for yourself, huh?”
You look down and swallow heavily. “Sorry, Captain.”
“You’re not now, but you will be,” he tells you, grasping your chin so you meet his gaze.
He kisses you roughly, slotting a leg between yours. You moan into his mouth, heat pooling in your belly. The feel of his thick, muscled thigh near your clothed core brings back that ache from earlier. When he forces his tongue into your mouth you clench around nothing and think about what his cock will feel like inside you.
“I should make you blow me right here in this parking lot,” he says, pulling away from your lips. “Put you on your knees and keep my cock in your throat until you make me come.” The thought of being trapped between his legs and the car, forced to let him fuck your mouth however he wants, makes you exhale shakily. “You like that idea?” He asks, dipping his head to run his lips along the side of your throat.
“Yes,” you breathe, curling your hands around the fabric of his shirt.
“As appealing as it is, I need a bed for what I’m going to do to you,” he murmurs, pulling his leg from between yours. You whimper at the loss of contact but groan when his hand cups you through your underwear a moment later. “I’ll start with my hands and mouth, getting you messy and wet enough to take me. Then, and only after I’ve filled you full of me, again and again, will I consider letting you come.”
“Please,” you gasp, canting your hips towards him, mindless enough it doesn’t cross your mind to be concerned that anyone could walk by and see the two of you.
“You’re greedy for someone who did a bad fucking job earlier,” he chastises, drawing aside your underwear.
He slides two fingers in your folds, meeting little resistance when he plunges them into your cunt to stroke your walls. You’re still wet from earlier and his words just now. Rising up on your tiptoes, you moan loudly while he continues to pump them in and out rhythmically. It might be embarrassing how quickly he’s drawing you to orgasm but all you can think about is climbing that hill and finding your release.
“Your place or mine?” He asks, lips finding your throat again to suck the skin between his teeth.
“Yours,” you pant, aware that he lives on the compound. “It’s closer.”
“Mmmm, it is,” he agrees, pulling away and letting his hand slip from between your thighs. “We’ll go to yours.” You blink in surprise, stumbling when he pulls away from you with a grin. “Oh, you didn’t think I was going to let you come, did you? Only good girls get to and sweetheart, that isn’t you right now.”
You can only gape at him as turns to leave.
“Wait, you don’t know where I live.”
“Don’t I?” he questions. “Your address is in your personnel file and FRIDAY’s very helpful if you have the right security clearance. Now run along. I have a few more things to finish up here and I’ll be over.” His tone is dismissive and he doesn’t spare you a backward glance.
You groan, cunt throbbing with need.
“And you better not touch yourself until I get there. No one gets to make you come from now on but me.”
Warnings: language, sex, lots of sex, mouthy angry Steve, slight slut-shaming, breeding kink if you squint, cream pies
Word Count: 1,319
Synopsis: Steve hates you, right?
A/N: This is a rewrite of this drunk drabble I wrote for @shotsbyshae forever ago. This was fun to do it’s not edited or beta read so all mistakes are mine. Is it better than the original? Maybe. I think it is that's what counts
Steve’s hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the high-pitched moan that pierced the night air. Thick digits sliding slowly from your lips, dragging roughly down before wrapping around your throat. Restricting the air you so desperately needed.
Hips pumping. Skin slapping. Steves cock driving into you at a punishing pace, grunting against your ear in time with each thrust. “You’re so god damn loud,” he scolded with a growl. “So fucking hungry for my cock right?”
You nodded, tears leaking from your eyes as he squeezed a little too hard. A groan of pleasure slipped from him as you let out a choked moan. Fucking Steve Rogers was nothing like people imagined it was.
Steve was the golden child.
America’s brightest beacon.
A dancing monkey for the amusement of others.
And Steve hated it all.
He’d begun to despise the spotlight long before he’d showed up in this century and your very arrival to the team, someone who didn’t shy away from the spotlight, grated on his last nerve. You’d become a thorn in his side and it wasn’t just because you were clearly Tony’s favorite, from the first moment he meets you with your fake smile and friendly tone of voice Steve despised everything you were.
It didn’t matter what you did it was always met with bile from Steve. On missions he was short with you, snapping out orders and sneering with a condescending, “Think you can do that?” Pushing you out of the way, yanking you back into a dark corner his grip bruising your arm, Steve was being purposefully harsh for reasons that the rest of the team had no idea about. But you did.
Freedom incarnate had a dark side and you were the one who always managed to bring it out. Seething, writhing darkness he suppressed on a daily basis, let loose whenever he got you alone. Steve wouldn’t hold back. He didn’t have to because he absolutely hated you so there was no reason to be gentile.
Even after the first time, he’d pinned you in the stairwell, fucking you against the concrete wall like a man possessed his fingers left familiar bruises. He’d left you spent, cum dripping from your still spasming pussy on the cement stairs. Knees scuffed and hands raw he sneered down at you before buttoning his fly and returning to the press conference downstairs.
Steves loathing of you didn’t cease after that day.
But the darkness inside of you was awoken by his own. So now when he’d corner you, you’d always look up at him with pouty eyes. His thumb briefly tracing your bottom lip parting them and running the pad against your tongue before you’d ask, “How do you want me?” And he’d knowingly smirk.
To you and the rest of the world, Steve was perfection incarnate. A pouty bottom lip that just begged for your teeth, his eyes shining bright with so much intensity and emotion it was almost blinding. Muscles that stretched and moved like tensile steel beneath flesh hot to the touch and a cock that made you forget your name.
There was violence in his grip. Barely restrained and itching to be let loose as he held you with demanding and desperate touches. Fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pulling and twisting your hair around his fist bending and twisting your body into position. His perfect pearl white teeth dragging against the curve of your neck before perfect pouty lips both saccharine sweet and bitter like poison slotted over your own with a growl.
“I fucking hate you,” he’d snarl against your lips.
“Fuck me,” you demanded, a whine escaping as his fingers probed past the pink cotton panties before thrusting into your soaking wet core.
When you were together you were his and his alone.
Steve owned you when that door closed and you gladly gave yourself over. You wanted to feel him. You wanted to take everything he had to offer. You wanted it all and more.
“You’re so fucking soft,” he hummed a touch of admiration in his voice. Pulling away leaving you trembling on the verge of orgasm, his hand fisting his cock covered with your slick and giving a few quick pumps before turning you over and pushing you face down against the bed. The head of his cock pressing against you again and he groaned, “Pussy so wet and hungry for my cock.”
Rocking his hips the head just parting your lips and making the breath shudder from your lungs, desperation coloring your voice in a whine at his teasing. Steve’s hips surged forward, filling you again as his hand tangled in your hair, craning your neck back to look at him with lust-heavy eyes, “Such a hungry slut.”
“Steve,” you whimpered, your own fingers reaching down and circling your clit. He pushed your head down, releasing your hair to grip your hips and start a punishing pace, the slap of skin sharp in the quiet room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted as each thrust pushed the air from your lungs.
He pulled you against him then, hands tight against your arms before his knees settled into the soft mattress. Cock fucking up into you with the same rough strokes, bending your back against him your hands reaching back and yanking at the short strands of hair. Steve’s hand slipped around your neck again, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he panted softly, “I could fucking kill you right now you know. I could do it and you’d never even fight back.”
You cried out, low and needy as your fingers rubbed against your clit harder and faster a choked sob slipping past your lips and you felt Steves smile. Steve could kill you. He could and you’d fucking let him.
“You fucking love it don’t you,” he purred, wet fingers circling your clit a little faster making your eyes roll into the back of your head and your pussy begin to flutter as your orgasm drew closer. “Fuck, squeezing me so tight. Cock drunk slut want’s me to fill her up? Yeah?”
He hummed against you, voice taking on that familiar desperate edge and hips rolling a little harder and more sloppy than before, “Fucking beg for it. Cum on my cock and beg.”
The last ounce of your dignity left with that moment, in a babble of words you begged for it, “Please Steve. Please. I need it. Need your cum so bad. Fill me up, please, fuck please Steve.”
Steve moaned loud, the sound vibrating through your whole body as a shudder ran through you. You shook as every muscle in your body tightened down, awash in pleasure that had your mouth opening in a soundless cry at the same moment Steve grunted into your hair, “Oh fuck.”
Early morning light filtered into the windows pulling Steve awake before you. Running a hand through his hair and scrubbing his face he sighed heavily before sitting up and looking down at you. Reaching out and touching your softly, fingertips lightly tracing against your face, the curve of your neck littered with love bites and bruises before leaning down. Impossibly long lashes giving you butterfly kisses against your flesh as he trailed his lips over your cheek, fingers brushing the hair from your eyes.
Steve hated you.
A smile tugged at your lips as he left the bed and you rolled into his vacated warm spot, fingers trailing after him as he picked up his clothes and prepared for his morning run.