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amalythea · 1 month

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「 hold my hand, please, one last time.」

⤷ info: kazuha, albedo, aether, xiao, wanderer x gn!reader || angst, this is based on the prompt “can i hold your hand?” (or “can you hold my hand?”) || wc: 3104

⤷ warnings: death, this is v v angsty

⤷ extra: i wrote this a while ago back on soleillunne and decided that it was too good to be gone forever lmao

kazuha.

The battlefield was strewn with chaos, and amidst the clash of swords and the cries of war, Kazuha fought with all his might, his heart burdened with the weight of the lives at stake. He had hoped that his skills with the blade and mastery of the Anemo vision would be enough to protect those he held dear, but fate had other plans.

As the battle raged on, he caught a glimpse of his lover, a skilled warrior whose presence had always brought him comfort and strength, you. Your eyes met for a fleeting moment, and in that exchange, you understood each other without uttering a word. It was a silent promise that you would find each other amidst the chaos.

But the tide turned against you, and the enemy’s forces seemed endless. Despite your best efforts, the defenders were overwhelmed, and Kazuha found himself standing back-to-back with you, defending against the onslaught.

In the midst of the chaos, an arrow found its mark. Time seemed to slow as the arrow pierced through your chest, and the world around you faded into the background. Kazuha’s heart clenched in horror as he caught you, your strength waning with each passing moment.

“Kazuha,” you gasped, blood staining your lips. “Can I hold your hand?”

Tears welled up in Kazuha’s eyes as he clutched your hand tightly, trying to offer some semblance of comfort amidst the pain. “Yes, of course,” he choked out, his voice trembling with grief.

Your hand trembled in his grasp, and Kazuha could feel your life slipping away like sand through his fingers. He could do nothing but watch helplessly as the light in your eyes began to fade. You smiled weakly at him, a bittersweet expression filled with love and regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sounds of battle. “I wish… we had more time.”

“Don’t speak like that,” Kazuha pleaded, his voice breaking. “We’ll get through this. I won’t let you go.”

But you knew better, and as your strength waned, you continued to smile at him, your touch growing weaker by the second.

“I love you,” you murmured, your breath becoming shallow. “Always…”

Tears streamed down Kazuha’s cheeks as he held you close, trying to shield you from the harsh reality of the world around you. He wished he could turn back time, rewrite the events that led to this tragic moment, but life was unforgiving in its cruelty.

Your hand in his grew colder, and your breathing ceased. Your life force, once vibrant and strong, slipped away, leaving behind only a lifeless body in Kazuha’s arms.

Kazuha held your hand tightly, unable to let go, as if keeping that connection alive could somehow bring you back. He cried out in anguish, the weight of grief crashing down upon him like an unforgiving storm.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Kazuha felt an emptiness he had never known before. He had lost not only a lover but a confidant, a soulmate with whom he had shared dreams, laughter, and countless cherished memories.

And as the battle raged on, Kazuha clung to your lifeless hand, lost in sorrow, with a heart that would forever bear the burden of their memory.

albedo.

Albedo’s heart pounded in his chest as he cradled his you in his arms. He was just about to descend from his lab on Dragonspine to meet up with you as he promised, only to see you laying on your own blood at the bottom of the mountain. He had seen you only hours prior, he’d laughed with you, but now, all that remained was a sea of sorrow, the bitter taste of loss overwhelming his senses.

He looked down at the face that he had cherished so dearly, now drained of all warmth and life. Your eyes, once filled with light and love, now stared back at him with a haunting emptiness. Albedo’s hands trembled, and tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

“Can you hold my hand?” a weak voice whispered, barely audible amidst the sounds of grief and despair that surrounded them. Albedo’s heart wrenched at the sound, and he quickly took your freezing hand into his own.

Tears streamed down Albedo’s cheeks as he clutched your hand tightly. “Yes, of course,” he choked out, his voice breaking with pain. “I’ll hold your hand for as long as you need, my love.”

He brought your intertwined hands to his lips and placed a tender kiss on the once-warm skin, now cold and lifeless. Memories of your time together flooded his mind – the laughter you shared, the dreams you nurtured, and the love you built with each passing day. Now, all that was left were shattered hopes and dreams.

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo whispered, his voice filled with regret and guilt. “I couldn’t protect you. I failed.”

You weakly shook your head, mustering a faint smile. “No, don’t blame yourself,” you managed to say. “You… you brought me so much happiness, Albedo. Please, don’t forget that.”

Albedo’s heart ached at the words, realizing that he had to find the strength to carry on without you. But it felt like an impossible task, as if the very essence of his being had been torn apart.

“I don’t know if I can,” he confessed, his voice trembling with sorrow. “You’re my everything.”

You fingers tightened around his hand as if trying to hold on just a little longer. “You’re strong, Albedo. Stronger than you know,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Promise me… you’ll keep going… for both of us.”

Albedo nodded, his tears falling freely now. “I promise,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’ll live for the both of us. But it won’t be the same without you.”

Your breaths became shallower, and Albedo knew that your life was slipping away. He leaned closer, trying to memorize every detail of your face, never wanting to forget.

“I love you,” you whispered, your words fading like a gentle breeze. “Always.”

“I love you too,” Albedo replied, his voice choked with emotion. “Always and forever.”

And with those final words, your grip on his hand slowly weakened until it was gone completely. Albedo held onto your hand a moment longer, pressing it against his heart as if trying to keep your love alive within him.

As grief consumed him, Albedo felt a mix of emotions. Sorrow, anger, and a deep longing to see his lover again, even if it were just for a moment. But he knew he had to continue, to honor your memory and the love you shared.

Albedo gently laid your body down, closing your eyes with tender care. He stood, feeling the weight of loss heavy on his shoulders, but also the weight of your love, and your belief in him, pushing him forward. Though his heart was shattered, he would carry your love with him, always.

And as he walked away from that place of sorrow, he knew that the pain would remain, but so would the memories of a love that would never truly fade away.

aether.

Aether’s heart pounded in his chest as he cradled his dying lover in his arms. The battlefield around them had turned into a chaotic canvas of destruction, but his attention was solely focused on the person he held dear. You were slipping away, and he could feel your life force fading like a waning star.

“Can you hold my hand?” you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the cacophony of war. Aether’s eyes filled with tears, and he gently clasped your frail hand in his own, interlocking your fingers. His touch was warm, providing a sense of comfort amidst the pain.

“I’m here,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I won’t let go.”

Your breathing was shallow, and your once-bright eyes were now dim, but you managed a faint smile. It was a bittersweet expression, as if you were trying to convey so much in that fleeting moment. Memories of you flooded Aether’s mind, from the first time you met under the starlit sky to the promises you made to each other.

“You have to promise me,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “that you’ll keep going. That you’ll find happiness again.”

Aether couldn’t find the strength to respond, his throat constricted with grief. He knew that in a world without his lover, life would lose its luster, its purpose. But he understood that you were trying to ease his pain, even in your last breaths.

“No,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I can’t bear to live without you. Please don’t leave. Not you too.”

You smiled again, a mixture of sadness and love in your eyes. “You are strong, Aether, and you will find the strength to carry on. I will always be with you.”

Aether’s heartache intensified, and he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. He wished he could freeze time, to hold you forever, but he knew it was slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers.

“I love you,” you said, their voice fading into a whisper.

“And I love you,” Aether replied, his voice breaking.

Your grip on his hand loosened, and Aether felt the last pulse of life slip away from you. He held onto your hand a moment longer, not wanting to let go, but eventually, he lowered it gently to your chest.

In that moment, as the world around him continued to rage with chaos, Aether felt an overwhelming emptiness inside. His lover was gone, and the pain of your absence consumed him. But he knew he had to honor your last wish—to find a way to live without you, to keep your love alive in his heart.

With tears in his eyes, Aether kissed your forehead one last time before he stood, facing the uncertain future that lay ahead. Your love would forever be his guiding light, and he would cherish every memory, every moment you had shared.

And as the battles raged on and the world continued to turn, Aether vowed to carry your love with him, a beacon of hope in the darkest of times. Though your physical presence was gone, your love would endure, a reminder that even in the face of loss, the power of love could transcend beyond the boundaries of life and death.

heizou.

Heizou knelt on the cold, damp ground, cradling your cold body in his arms. He had just returned home from work, when the last thing he expected to see was see you laying on your own blood in your shared home. He held you closer, your blood staining his hands, mingling with his own tears. His heart felt as though it had been torn apart, and the pain was almost unbearable.

The world seemed to slow down as Heizou stared into the fading eyes of his beloved. Each second felt like an eternity, and yet, it was slipping away all too quickly. He could see the struggle in your gaze, the effort it took to speak those final words.

“Can I hold your hand?” you whispered, your voice getting lower with each word.

Tears streamed down Heizou’s face, and he gently clasped your trembling hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. He felt your warmth slowly waning, and he held on tighter, as if he could somehow will life back into you with the strength of his grip.

“You don’t have to ask,” Heizou choked out, his voice breaking with sorrow. “I’ll hold your hand forever.”

You managed a faint smile, your strength visibly waning. “I… I love you,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” Heizou replied, his voice trembling. “You’re my everything, my reason for living.”

As the commotion outside your shared home began to get louder, the people having noticed the blood stains, Heizou’s focus remained solely on you. The world outside ceased to exist for him, and he poured all his love and energy into holding you, trying to be your anchor in this storm of pain and suffering.

In your last moments, you clung to each other tightly, as if afraid to let go. Heizou’s heart ached as he felt your life slipping away from him, the person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. He wished he could have done something, anything, to save you.

But in the end, all he could do was be there, holding your hand, providing them with comfort in their final moments. Heizou would carry the weight of this loss forever, the memories of you etched into his soul.

Even as people left you two alone and the world moved on, Heizou remained on that cold, damp ground, cradling the body of the one he had loved and lost, his heart forever scarred by the pain of that fateful day.

xiao.

Xiao knelt on the damp ground, his heart pounding with anguish as he cradled your shaking form in his arms. The battlefield around you was silent, the chaos of the battle having retreated, leaving behind only the echoes of suffering and loss.

Your once bright eyes, now dulled by death, stared up at him, and Xiao couldn’t bear to look away. Your hands, once intertwined in a promise of eternity, now lay limp and still. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

“Can you hold my hand?” your voice was a faint whisper, barely audible amidst the devastation surrounding them.

Xiao’s heart shattered at those words, but he gently took your hand in his own, holding it with all the tenderness and love he had for you. “I will always hold your hand,” he choked out, his voice breaking with grief.

You managed a weak smile, the corners of your lips lifting slightly. “Even in death,” you murmured, your voice barely reaching Xiao’s ears.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, my love,” Xiao vowed, his fingers trembling as he clung tightly to the hand that was growing colder by the second. “Even to the ends of this cruel world.”

Your breathing grew fainter, and your grip on his hand loosened. Xiao felt his heartache intensify, knowing that he couldn’t change the cruel fate that had befallen you.

“Thank you… for loving me,” you whispered, your voice a mere thread of sound.

“Thank you for making my life meaningful,” Xiao replied, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m grateful for every moment we shared.”

Your eyes locked for a final time, and in that fleeting moment, a lifetime of love and memories passed between you. Xiao wished he could freeze time, to hold on to this moment forever, but life had other plans.

As the last breath left your lips, Xiao leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Rest now,” he whispered, his voice breaking with sorrow. “I’ll carry you in my heart. Until we meet again.”

He remained there, holding your lifeless hand, as tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the blood-stained soil beneath you. Xiao knew that a part of him had died that day with his beloved, but he also knew that your love would live on, eternal and undying, no matter the circumstances.

wanderer.

Wanderer knelt on the ground, his heart pounding in his chest as he cradled you in his arms. The world around you seemed to blur, the noise of battle fading into an eerie silence. The battle had been brutal, and he had fought with all his might to protect the one he loved, but fate had dealt them a cruel hand.

Your once vibrant eyes now glistened with pain, and a weak smile graced your lips. Blood stained your clothing, and Wanderer could feel your life slipping away.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t have much time, do I?”

Wanderer choked back a sob, clutching your body tightly. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. We’ll get you help.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, but it quickly turned into a cough. “You can’t lie to me, my love.” you managed to say, your breath shallow.

Tears finally streamed down Wanderer’s face as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry if I didn’t say it often. I can’t bear to lose you.”

You trembled in his grasp, and gazed into his eyes with a mixture of love and sadness. “Can I hold your hand?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Wanderer nodded frantically, intertwining his fingers with yours. He held your hand close to his heart, hoping that somehow he could transfer strength to you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, tears pooling in your eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and full of affection, reserved only for you. “You won’t have to. Just hold on a little longer, and we’ll get you help. We’ll face this together.”

Your grip tightened weakly on his hand. “You’re my light, my love, my everything,” you murmured. “You always have been. Promise me you’ll keep shining, even when I’m gone.”

Wanderer could feel whatever was left of his heart shatter with your words. “I promise,” he choked out. “But you can’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.”

Your breathing grew shallower, and your voice became softer. “You’re strong, my love,” you said. “You’ll find a way. Remember me, but don’t let my memory hold you back. Live your life to the fullest. Find happiness again.”

“I can’t imagine life without you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “How am I supposed to go on?”

Your only response was a brief smile, and he squeezed your cold hand tightly. “I’ll never let go,” he vowed. “Not even when you’re gone.”

Your breathing slowed, and your eyes locked with his one last time. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice fading away.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his voice cracking.

And then, with your hand still clasped in his, you were gone.

Wanderer held your lifeless form closer, his tears falling like rain. He knew that life would never be the same again, that a piece of his heart had been taken with you. But he also knew that he had to keep the promise he made. With a heavy heart, he stood, carrying your memory with him as he faced the world without you, knowing that he would always carry your love and light with him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

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viperbarnes · 2 years

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No Strings Attached

Ex!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: “Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come,” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth. “Every. Time.”

Warnings: smut! language, hurt, exes to lovers <3

Notes: this is one of my fave oneshots i've ever written tbh. i really love the trope of people breaking up, because of xyz issue, and then the person with xyz issue actively works to resolve or change it, but with no expectation of reuniting, just because they want to be a better person. so ye, that's basically this whole fic lmao

Words: 15,849

You make a sort of doe-eyed blank expression as you listen, that makes your building’s security guard duck his head a little lower into your line of sight and wave his hand.

“Ma’am?” You blink suddenly, snapping out of your spiralling thoughts and focus back on the man’s face.

“Huh?”

He smiles sympathetically and repeats himself.

“I asked if you had anybody who might come stay with you tonight? Super said he can’t get a hold of anybody who can change your lock…” You sigh and look around him at your door, it’s lock busted and breaking through the wood of the door.

You’d arrived home to find it like that, although the cops the security guy had insisted on calling said that it looked like no thief actually made it inside, probably got spooked. Seeing as none of your stuff was stolen or out of place, you’d have said they were right.

You run a hand over your hair and sigh.

“Uhm. Yeah. Yeah I do.” You nod your head, not actually coming up with a name off the top of your head, but you’re sure you’ll think of someone once you have a moment to breathe. The security guard nods.

“Do you want me to wait until they get here?” You smile and shake your head.

“Oh, no, no… it’s fine! I’ll be okay until then!” You assure him. You know he got paid for every hour he spent on the door, and not for any he didn’t.

He checks with you twice more before he leaves, and you shut your busted door behind him, slipping your side table in front of it in the meantime before you fumble through your bag for your phone.

You stare at your home screen for a solid two minutes, mind going over the people you’d feel comfortable calling, who you’d actually feel safe having stay with you overnight, and for the life of you, you can only come up with one name.

Unfortunately, this name belonged to your ex.

It wasn’t as if you and Steve Rogers hadn’t broken up amicably, or at least, you hadn’t ended badly, but for a moment you debate with yourself on if you really need to call anyone at all. You think about sleeping, knowing your apartment door was basically open.

You bring up his contact.

The first thing you see is a list of past calls and texts, the date signalling that the last time you’d called him had been almost seven months ago, and for a moment your eyes linger on that.

Seven months? It hardly felt like it, really.

You and Steve had met through work. You worked in the forensics at Avengers Tower, and so you’d occasionally see each other when the team had lab work to be done. It had been a slow progression for him to ask you out, and when he had, the two of you dated successfully for an entire year. Things were always slow with Steve, due in part to his schedule making it hard to really get anything done. If he wasn’t on a mission, he was resting from a mission, and the times you did go out or see one another were a lot less than you would have liked.

It’s why you broke up.

Steve was a great guy, the best you’d ever dated, but his work was his first true love and honestly? You required more attention than he could give. You weren’t needy exactly, but when you made a plan, you tended to expect to follow through. Steve’s last minute missions, or his cancelling and rescheduling was understandable in his line of work, and if had only been every so often, you’d have been just fine.

But it wasn’t, and you weren’t.

And so… you’d broken up. You’d explained to him that while you really liked him, you just didn’t mesh well together. He’d been understandably upset, but had told you he got it. You’d parted on good terms, with only a residual sadness lingering behind. Even now, you felt a small jolt of angst at even seeing his name written. Really, Steve was your perfect guy, and if he’d ever been around, you might’ve been able to experience more of that perfection.

You shake your thoughts aside and tap the call button, bringing the phone to your ear and waiting as the dial tone rings out. You can’t help but chew your lip as you wait, anxiety beginning to well up.

What if he didn’t answer?

What if he was on a mission?

What if he saw your name, and then didn’t answe—

“Hello?” You nearly gasp at hearing his voice, seven months suddenly feeling longer than before and you swallow thickly to remember why you were even calling in the first place.

“Steve… hey, it’s uh, me…”

“Yeah, I… I have caller ID on this phone.”

“Finally switch from the flip, huh?” You can’t help but shoot back, smile covering your features when you hear his warm chuckle on the other side.

“Yeah, it was time to change things up… Is everything okay?” Maybe he can hear it in your voice, or maybe he’s just that confused as to why you’re randomly calling him at ten on a Tuesday night, but you hear a note of concern in his reply that makes you want to curl up into a ball.

“Um… not really, no… I got home a little while ago and someone had tried breaking into my place—”

“—What? Are you okay? Did they take anything?!” You chuckle awkwardly at his immediate worry.

“Yeah, no— I mean, yes I’m okay, no they didn’t take anything.” You assert, and can practically see him letting out a breath.

“Uhm… I do have a favour to ask though, and I wouldn’t call if I had anybody else, but—”

“—Of course, whatever it is, just let me know.” You let out a shaky sigh and swallow again.

“The lock on my door is busted, and my super can’t get anybody in to fix it until tomorrow… I just… really don’t want to sleep here alone, with a broken door…” On the other side of the line you can hear keys clinking, and feel your tummy flop in dangerous ways.

“I’m coming out now. You want me to stay on the line?” You could fall to your knees and praise every god in existence for the special kind of beautiful Steve Rogers was.

“No, I’m okay, I just don’t wanna be alone later…” You cringe a little at how that might sound like a proposition, but Steve only hums.

“‘Course. I’ll see you in ten.”

When you hang up, you stare down at your phone for a few seconds.

And then you promptly drop it, head whipping around your messy living-kitchen space and quickly get to work tidying it to a presentable degree.

—-

Steve arrives almost exactly ten minutes later, the light knocking on your door followed by his voice.

“Hey, it’s just me!” He says, and you hurry to slide your end table out of the way, your door pretty much swinging open by itself.

For a moment you can only stare at him, dark blue jeans, white t-shirt, brown leather jacket. He’d grown his beard out since you saw him last, thick and golden and groomed just right to hit you in the lady parts. He seems fixated on you as well, though recovers far more gracefully, eyes dipping to look at your splintered door and he whistles.

“When you said it was busted, you meant it huh?” He asks, and you laugh, a little awkwardly, pulling the door wider as you usher him inside.

“Yeah… cops said they must have gotten scared off before they got inside. None of my stuff is missing or moved.” You explain, closing the door behind him, and when he sees you move for the table, steps forward to help you, looking at your makeshift barricade up and down for a moment when you’re done.

“Good. That’s good.” You look up at him again as silence falls upon your apartment, and find he’s already looking back at you. Realising you hadn’t even changed from work yet, and you’d cried a little bit after discovering the break-in, you attempt to smooth your hair down and wipe any potential makeup from under your eyes.

“Jesus, I must look like a mess.” You sort-of apologise, trying to play it off with a chortle, but Steve shakes his head, smiling kindly.

“Not at all.” Is all he says, and you hate the fact the completely non-committal sentence makes your belly flop again.

“Oh, uh, can I get you anything? Coffee, tea? I think I have a six pack in the fridge…?” You gesture to your kitchen, but move for your fridge anyway, Steve shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows, shrugging his shoulders. You find the beer behind your salad, and pull it out.

“Well, I’m having one.” You tease, setting the pack on the counter as you attempt to pull a bottle from the plastic rings. Maybe you’re just too exhausted, maybe this particular plastic was just stronger than you, but it doesn’t budge and Steve steps forward, hands already out.

“Let me…” He offers, even as you let him take your chosen bottle from you, tearing it out as if it were nothing. It likely wasn’t, for him, and you swallow, the room feeling warmer suddenly.

“Thanks. Help yourself.” You nod to the pack, a little thankful he takes one too, placing the rest back in your fridge.

“I uhm, I might go shower and change, I haven’t even thought about that yet…” You gesture down at yourself again, and Steve nods.

“Whatever you need.” He tells you, and then points to your couch.

“Mind if I watch the game?” You frown, but nod anyway.

“Who’s playin’?” You both move over into your living room, and you quickly find and toss him your remote.

“Mets vs Giants.” He says, and you ‘ah’, watching for a moment as he flicks to the right channel, your eyes finding the score and you wince, turning back to him.

“Hope you don’t have any bets on your boys.” You say, faux-sympathy dripping from your voice. Steve gives you an unimpressed eyebrow, pointing at you.

“We’ll come back.”

“If it makes you feel better.” You tack on, but burst into a laugh as he rolls his eyes, making himself comfortable on your couch. You note with mild amusement he takes the same spot he would always take up, before you’d broken up. Apparently one of your couch cushions was just comfier than the rest.

You leave him there to go get cleaned up at last, and relish in the hot water as you do little more than just stand under it for ten minutes. Despite your stress from the past few hours, you feel oddly light, Steve’s sudden reappearance back in your life, in your apartment making you feel a little woozy, but only in a good way.

You try to tell yourself that it was only because your breakup had been so amicable, if he were any of your other ex’s you wouldn’t be feeling the way you do…

You dry off and dress quickly, throwing your hair up before stepping back out into the living room. Crossing your arms over your chest in some subconscious way of shutting yourself off to how damn good he looked, you take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, grabbing your beer again and tipping it back.

“Cops get the security footage from the hall?” He asks, one hand around the neck of the bottle he rests on his thigh, the other thrown over the back of the couch toward you, almost invitingly. You blink for a moment as you process his question and hum.

“Yeah. But it’ll probably get written off if the guy didn’t, you know, look straight into the camera or something. You know how they are.” Steve tears his eyes from the TV and looks at you with a frown.

“You get a case number? I’ll follow up tomorrow, make sure they—” Before you can really stop yourself, you cut him off.

“—Steve you don’t have to do that.” The blond shuts his mouth, and you can practically hear the words unspoken.

‘Because you aren’t my boyfriend’. For a moment you can both only stare, until Steve nods and looks away, his brow smoothing out as he relaxes, but the tick in his jaw tells a different story.

“Well, let me know if you need to…” You can’t help but smile a little, behind the rim of your beer, and you take another sip before turning back to the game.

The Mets make a comeback and you finish the night cursing under your breath. You weren’t a Giants fan by any means, but you made a habit of rooting for anybody going against the Mets.

Steve helps you pack away the light snacks and empty beer bottles, all the while wearing a smug grin, and you can’t even stay too annoyed. Smug and playful was always a good look on him.

As you put away the last of the rubbish, you yawn a little and check the time.

“I might head to bed… I’ll get you some pillows and stuff…” You announce, and ignore when he looks up at you in favour of making for the linen closet. You do however grab the pillow from your bed that you know he used to favour, and lay it all out on the couch. When you look up again, Steve is pulling his jacket from his shoulders, and laying it over the back of the opposite couch.

“Uhm, if you need to leave, could you just wake me up?” You ask, stepping back, and Steve frowns deeply, cocking his head.

“Leave? Why would I need to leave?”

“I don’t know… if you’re needed, I guess…” You shrug, shifting awkwardly and for a few seconds Steve’s face filters through a few emotions. Confusion, concern, offence, and then some sort of resignation.

“I— you know if you really needed me, I wouldn’t leave… right?” He asks, and you feel something stir in your chest. It isn’t exactly positive like all the other feelings you’d been having tonight, more like a sting of annoyance, of hurt and you purse your lips, shrugging again and looking to the side.

“I don’t know. You’re important, I’m sure people would need you a lot more than me.” You don’t mean to sound so passive aggressive, but you can’t help it.

He’d never made a point of making sure he’d be around before, the fact you even caught him on an off night is surprising to you. Steve’s brow dips and he opens his mouth, but you cut him off once again, pointing to the kitchen.

“Feel free to take whatever you want from the fridge, I’ll make sure not to sleep in too much… goodnight, Steve.”

You turn on your heel and don’t wait for a reply, shutting your bedroom door behind you. You know he can still hear whatever you do perfectly, so you don’t let out a sigh, or groan at your own fat-headedness, instead you switch off all your lights and settle under your covers.

In seven months you hadn’t felt out of place once in your room, but now, with Steve sleeping in the next room, your bed suddenly feels all too big.

—-

Strangely, despite your pass-agg comments, after that night you and Steve actually begin speaking again. At first it was just his texted check ups, making sure your door got fixed, making sure you were alright, making sure the cops did their jobs… it was sort of nice actually, to be friends with Steve again. He’d even shown his face down in forensics. You know his lack of attendance, Nat, Sam or Bucky showing up in his place, hadn’t been coincidental post your breakup, but the first day he shows up to deliver evidence for testing, you almost sigh at how much you’d missed seeing his face down there.

You actually think you become closer than you had been before, platonically that is. Steve doesn’t seem to make any moves toward rekindling your romance, and honestly? You were just fine with that. Steve was a great guy, but you couldn’t deal with his schedule… even if he did seem to be around more these days.

You don’t ask. You don’t even really think about it, instead chalking it up to good timing and coincidence.

You were wrong though.

Steve clinks the top of his glass with Sam’s as the man passes him his refilled drink, and the three men, including Bucky, settle back down around their seats on the Tower’s balcony.

“So, hey, can I ask you something?” Sam clears his throat some, and Steve cocks his head, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“You and Doc… are you guys like… getting back together, or…?” The blond squints, his face scrunching up a little as he looks off, sighing some.

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you went from not talking at all to hanging out again.” Bucky chimes in, and Steve shrugs, eyes finding his shoes.

“I don’t think she’s interested anymore. If friendship is all she wants, it’s what I’ll give.” Sam and Bucky make eye contact, sharing a frown between them and Sam leans forward slightly.

“Sure, but man, you changed up your whole shit for her… You don’t even wanna try again?” Steve sighs and finally looks back up at them.

“It wasn’t necessarily for her… but she was right. How am I supposed to foster any sort of relationship if I don’t make time for it? What we do is important, but I have to be able to prioritise other things. It’s not fair on anybody in my life.”

Bucky hums. He for one was glad Steve had taken a slight step back from the Avengers. Not only did it mean Sam and Rhodey were given more chances to lead, but it had upped the pressure on everyone slightly, in a good way. Previously Bucky would have felt anxious going on a solo mission with another member who wasn’t Steve or Sam, but now he regularly went on ops with Wanda, his bonds with other members growing immensely.

He clears his throat and reaches out to squeeze Steve’s shoulder some.

“I know how you felt about her, but I think you did the right thing.” Steve gives the dark-haired man a long look and a soft smile, ducking his head.

“What was that thing your Ma used to say?” He asks, and Bucky frowns a moment, before his face lights up again in recognition.

“‘Some folk only bless your life so you can learn from them’.” He says, and Steve hums, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.”

—-

It’s late, you should really be asleep by now, but you’ve been lying awake for hours now. Springtime in New York made the night air warmer than you were used to, and the slightly hot feeling of your body was not helping.

You growl in annoyance and switch your vibrator off, tossing it lightly into the open drawer of your bedside table. Between your thighs your clit still throbs slightly, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself cum in the almost two hours you’d been trying, and your hand was going numb from all the vibrations.

You were damn near desperate. You needed to be fucked, good and proper and thoroughly. With only a moment's hesitation, you reach for your phone and tap out a text.

You up?

Steve: Is everything alright?

It’s fine. Come over?

There’s a minute or so where you see the three dots appear as Steve begins typing, before they disappear, and then reappear, only to disappear once more. You almost smile to yourself. He was unsure.

Come over, pleeeaaaseeee?

Steve: … Are you alright?

You huff this time, and purse your lips. You could be forward here and now, giving him an out, or you could wait till he arrived, which might be far less convenient for your pride if he rejected you.

I need you… please…

This time Steve doesn’t type and then retype his messages, instead you’re forced to stare at your read receipt for a full two minutes before a reply comes back, your body lighting on fire the second you process the four little words.

Steve: Be there in ten.

Anticipation builds in you like a storm, and you quickly straighten your sheets, spritz some perfume, fix your hair a little, and pull on a gown, all in time for the knock on your door. The sound is curt and tense and you swallow thickly as you hurry to answer it, sliding your locks back before swinging it open.

Steve stands once again in dark jeans, this time with a dark grey sweater on. His hair was slightly damp still, messy, and you figure he must have just gotten out of his the shower when you’d texted. His eyes find you quickly, a little wide, a little confused, and with all the desperation from the past two hours fueling you, you pounce on him.

You’re lucky he’s as stable and strong as he is, you throw yourself bodily at him, arms wrapping instantly around his neck, your lips pressing to his own hungrily and he returns in kind, one hand steadying you around your middle, the other tangling up into your hair at the back of your head. You almost mewl at the way his hand clutches at your scalp, and you let him walk you back inside, his foot kicking your door closed behind you.

You keep moving, until your back hits your kitchen bench, and you take the moment to pull open your gown, letting it fall to the floor as your hands move for his own sweatshirt. The fabric is quickly discarded, and you’re a little surprised to hear Steve’s groan at your skin on skin contact, his hands beginning to roam more adventurously now. You weren’t keen on messing around for too long, and you make quick work of his belt, letting him kick his shoes off before he shucks the jeans down himself, stepping out of them, all without pulling his lips from yours.

You sigh into his mouth as he captures your tongue with his own, bearing down on you intently, his hands holding you tightly against his own body like he was trying to pull you into himself. You let a hand drop from his face to the hardness against your abdomen and allow yourself to relish in the soft gasps Steve lets out when you pump your fist over him several times, before increasing your pressure, making him all out moan.

His lips fall away from yours, instead he trails sloppy kisses along your cheek and down your neck, pausing to adjust, widening his legs some. With your mouth free, you find the time to speak.

“This… this is just sex, alright? It’s not… it’s just sex…” You tell him, feeling how for a moment he pauses, and you dread it for a second when he pulls away a little to look down at you. His expression is unreadable, but he’s nodding soon, and you breathe out in relief.

“Gotcha.” Is all he says, and you’re forced to release his length as a moment later you’re hoisted up. Your legs wrap around him, even as you’re set on your countertop, and his mouth moves back to yours. It’s your turn to gasp when his hand drops between your thighs, fingers immediately dipping into the dampness at your core, a touch you’d been craving for too long.

“You really needed it that bad, you had to call me?” His voice is low, and you shiver. Steve’s bedroom talk was always amazing, and now, for some reason, the fact you weren’t even together makes it better. It felt dirtier, more obscene, and you nod, panting as he pulls his lips away from yours, his eyes falling to watch his hand slide from your folds.

You swallow, leaning back on the counter as he becomes more purposeful, two fingers prodding at your entrance, his thumb gravitating to your clit, already overstimulated. When he pushes his two fingers inside you, you let your head fall back and your eyes close, widening your legs even more to give him room to work as he begins slowly pumping back and forth.

“F-fuck…” You breathe, toes scrunching as his fingers move a little faster, curling them slightly to run along your g spot and you feel your legs start to quiver already. He seems to anticipate your squirming though, and uses his free hand to hold one leg, the other he keeps open with his own thigh, moving quicker now. A slower moment lets him insert another finger, and soon you’re clutching around his neck again, needing something tangible to hold on to as he strokes you to finish.

“Steve! Steve, fuck, don’t— please don’t— ah!” You try to catch your breath before you even lose it, but you only swallow down more air as you cum, your hips shaking involuntarily against his hand as he continues to ride you through it, thumb never letting up over your clit until your head lolls back once more.

You’re about to speak, praise him perhaps, when his fingers pull away, taking your hips instead and any words you have are punched out of you with the feel of his hands drawing you onto his cock. You scramble for a hold again, gasping and moaning at the same time as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

“Holy fuck…!” You whimper, Steve already curling his hips up and into you, all the while lifting you from the counter itself to bounce you against his standing lap.

He liked this, you remember, liked being able to hold you up all on his own, control the pace, control his movement and yours.

“That okay?” His lips move against your cheek and you nod vehemently, a hand carding through the back of his hair.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck, I need it!” You squeeze your eyes closed as he really starts setting a pace, and you feel that deep spot inside of you that hadn’t been touched in months begin to light up. Regardless of your relationship issues, Steve had always been good in bed, his body fitting into your perfectly, his desire matching up with yours similarly so.

“Yeah? You need it, baby? … shit, I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten honey, running over you warm and sticky sweet, and you can’t help it, you pout a little, nodding at his words.

“Please… please!” You whine. You know how much he loved to feel needed, in and out of the bedroom, but that didn’t mean your mewling was all for show. You’d finished once, yes, but you were so pent up you were still rearing to go and Steve’s cock pounding into you hurriedly was only spurring you on. You needed release and he was going to give it to you. Your mind always went a little hazy, a little blank when he’d have you like this, you’d do practically anything he asked, and he knew it.

“Come on, sweetheart, one more, wanna feel you squeeze me…” You whine again with his added words, his lips nipping your ear and you nod, face falling into the crook of his neck as he continues to pant and puff with effort. Your sounds start becoming shorter, more gasped and as he slows to level you with long, deep strokes, your orgasm rolls over you, gentler than the last, though powerful still, amplified by the feel of your cunt actually clutching, gripping onto something as your muscles tense and flutter.

Steve groans, keeps up the longer, slower strokes until you begin to relax again, and with little warning, pulls out. He presses his cock against your inner thigh, but pumps with one hand until he’s sighing airily, thick hot streams of cum streaking over your thigh and abdomen as you watch.

For some reason, all you can think about for a few seconds is how he’d never come on you before. Always inside you, condom or raw, and the change in behaviour confuses you for a moment, but you don’t intend on asking.

You both pant heavily, still partially leant against one another as you catch your breath, and you feel a slight awkwardness settle over you. Would things be weird now? Would he expect more from this? For a moment you have to admit it was nice being back in his arms, nice to pretend he was yours, but reality sets in and you cool off.

Even if he was still your boyfriend, he would never really be ‘yours’. Not while he shouldered so much of the world’s responsibilities.

Steve settles you back on the lip of the counter, and you jump slightly at how cool it feels against your bare skin. As you finally make eye contact, a pit opens in your gut. Steve after sex was always a sight to behold, his hair hanging in his face, his cheeks flushed red and his lips swollen and parted… it makes your stomach lurch in longing, and you quickly clear your throat, gently pushing him back so you can stand.

Finding your robe on the floor, you quickly pull it on despite the sweat covering your skin, and look back toward Steve, though you avoid his eye contact.

“Uhm, do you want to wash up before you go?” You know if sounds a bit harsh, but you’d made it clear to him before you’d properly gotten started that this was just sex. You couldn't bring yourself to expect anything more from him, and risk another broken heart.

Steve blinks, and you see a brief moment of hurt flash across his features before they harden somewhat, and he straightens, tucking himself back into his pants gingerly and collecting his sweatshirt.

“It’s alright, I… I’ll clean up at home.” He says, and you have to cross your arms over your chest at the tight feeling that begins constricting you.

“Okay.” Steve hesitates, looks at you a moment too long before he nods to the door.

“I’ll get out of here.” He says, sounding far more casual than he had a moment ago, as if nothing at all had just transpired between you, and you latch onto that ease, making it easier for you to play along too.

“No worries…” You trail him to the doorway, holding it open behind him as he steps through and turns around. His mouth is open, poised to say something but for some unknown reason you decide to cut him off, a hand shooting out to land on his arm, and you squeeze just a little.

“Thank you, Steve.” You want to cringe at the sound of thanking somebody after sex, but really, it was more about the fact for the second time in a row he actually came when you’d needed him… even if the second was a far more rival affair…

Steve blinks at you slowly from under his long lashes, in that dreamy way he does when he’s thinking something sweet or mushy, and again your insides twist. He only ducks his head further and swallows, a small smile pulling at his lips, far too innocent for the acts you’d just committed barely inside your doorway.

“Of course, uh, anytime…” You snort a little bit, rolling your eyes, but he gives you a final little wave before you shut your door behind him.

You’re left staring at your living room and kitchen counter, eyes fixated on the spot you’d been hauled up against just minutes ago. Your mind immediately begins the playback and you groan, remembering the mess still on your thighs and between them, suddenly more bothersome and uncomfortable than it had been previous, and you retreat to your shower, questioning yourself on if sleeping with your ex, who you’d only just begun talking to again, was a good idea.

—-

You walk in on Steve almost kissing someone.

It’s one of Tony’s parties, the big ones, where he invites everyone and absolutely insists everybody comes, even if he’s only on face-name basis with them. It was actually the first gathering you’d been to with the Avengers since you and Steve broke up, certainly the first since you’d started fucking again. It was good to see Sam and Bucky and the others outside of a work environment, and you think from their genuine smiles and the way Sam keeps talking you into one more round of pool, that maybe they missed you too.

You finally manage to duck out from under Sam’s arm, in search of a bottle of water, when you stumble into the private kitchen, where you’d been told the fridge was stocked full. At first your brain lights up.

Steve was in here! You’d hardly spoken to him all night! But then his hand registers, more specifically, the hip his hand is on registers, and your eyes suddenly piece together the scene before you.

A young woman, pretty, you think you know her from HR actually, leans with her back against the counter, her hands both wrapped around Steve’s biceps. One of his arms is around her waist, the other on her hip and they’re both smiling softly, if not shyly, heads so close their lips are barely apart when you accidentally squeak in surprise.

Steve pulls away instantly, even before he’s seen it’s you, and you realise that whoever this woman was to him, it was new. Steve was always a little skittish with PDA with new relationships. You’d seen it with Sharon, before yourself, and then again with your own relationship… and now with this.

“Oh! I—!” You feel your face go warm and you mouth wordlessly for a moment as you point to the fridge. The woman ducks her head in slight embarrassment and awkwardness and you do feel terrible, despite the wave of grief that overcomes you at the fact Steve was actually moving on.

Not that he wasn’t allowed to… you just hadn’t thought he’d do it first.

“Uh, just, water…” You stutter, suddenly feeling rather sick. Steve follows your pointing, even as you begin to move, avoiding his eyes. It shouldn’t be so weird! The situation the two of you had was strictly no strings attached! Steve was allowed to start dating, so were you! Still… that didn’t mean you wanted to walk in on him about to lay it on a woman that wasn’t you.

You rush out of the room with your water before anybody can gain enough sense to actually talk, and you tuck yourself back between Sam and Nat quickly.

You spy Steve and the woman leaving the kitchen a short while later, and though you don’t see even a bit of smudged lipstick or beard burn, your mind starts to whir in anger. But you know it's unjustified, and you curse yourself for being nearly a year out of your relationship, and still jealous. You consider breaking it off with Steve in the coming week, but your mind wanders back to the way he’d tipped his head back in a moan only days before, the thick column of his throat bobbing as he swallowed, his hands bruising on your hips as you rode him hard.

You decide instead that you’ll just act as if you’d never seen anything at all in the kitchen.

—-

Moving on is… hard.

Not necessarily out of some romantic idea that Steve was ‘The One’, in fact you’re more resolved against anything romantic with him now than you were before, more so because you were… picky.

Even if you lower your standards, every guy you seem to give a chance ends up firmly in your ‘no’ pile after a few dates or less. Most of the time it was because your interests didn’t align, you found them boring or you just weren’t attracted to each other, but occasionally one slips through.

Tom, his name was and Tom was nice. He was polite, handsome, you could talk about both shared interests and your jobs (he worked for the city morgue). Tom was good. You were still unsure of anything long term, or anything serious at all for that matter, but for someone to hang out with and occasionally be kissed by, you could do a lot worse than Tom.

He takes you out almost like clockwork every Friday or Saturday night since you’d met (that was four dates so far), you’d get dinner, maybe some drinks, walk around for a bit, and then he’d kiss you goodbye at your door. It was sweet. Tonight though, tonight you aren’t after sweet at all.

A SHIELD agent you know has her birthday, or maybe it’s a joint party? You aren’t sure, all you know is that it’s at a club, you look hot as hell, and if Tom doesn’t put his hands on you later you’ll burst at the seams.

The club is dark and loud, meant for dancing and drinking, not conversation and polite small talk, and the moment the bouncer sees you inside, you grab Tom by the hand and drag him along, a wicked smile thrown over your shoulder. You do the customary rounds, saying hello to people you know, introducing Tom. You even manage to figure out who the birthday girl is, and give her a hug. You’re aware when you lean over the table to do so that your already short skirt rides up further, and you’re aware tom is standing right behind you, watching.

You make sure not to drink much, you had plans for later after all, but you act a little giddier than you are, letting your hand linger on Tom’s thigh, holding on to him more than normal. You coax him out to the dance floor and that's where you get him. Hot bodies writhe to a beat, pressed up against one another, it doesn’t seem as obscene in the dark. You grind your hips back into Tom’s, his hands snaking their way around your hips and you smile, because you know.

In the dim light and through the throng of bodies, a flash of familiar stops you for a moment. Blonde hair, wide shoulders, beard, beer in hand, untouched… You swallow for a second as you make eye contact with Steve. He must have been invited too, must not have had a mission to go on to get out of it either. Before he can lift an eyebrow or do anything at all, you look away, wrapping your arms around Tom’s shoulders, you lean into his ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

This… this had not been what you’d had in mind.

Your bedroom is lit only by a spare few candles that flicker your shadows against the wall, and you watch them absently for a second longer, before dropping to rest on your elbows, your body moving in the rythmeric back and forth each time Tom’s hips gently buck into yours.

He can’t see your face since he’s got you on your hands and knees, and you’re glad for it, because you’re not sure you could fake it even if you tried. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good, it was just… you aren’t sure… he touched you like he wasn’t supposed to, and if you’re honest it felt less like he was having sex with you and more like he was just having sex. You could be anyone right now, and he probably wouldn’t care.

Tom pants and moans and then stops, his hips stuttering gently before he pulls out and away from you.

“Bin in the bathroom?” He asks, and you plaster on your best post-sex look, and nod, rolling over in time to see him disappear into your ensuite to dispose of the condom. When he returns, you go about cleaning yourself up.

“That was great.” He chimes, and you offer him a smile. At least somebody had fun, though you note a little bitterly how he hadn’t even asked about you. Maybe Tom wasn’t so nice.

“Yeah!” You enthuse. You already knew he wasn’t going to stay the night, he’d made sure to tell you as much before you’d begun. You pull on a gown and help him dress and gather his things.

At the front door he kisses you chastely, and tells you he’ll call in the morning. Mentally, you cross him off your list, and close your door.

You seeth while you change your sheets, getting angrier and angrier over your situation. You should have known from the start there was no spark with Tom, you shouldn’t have tried to kid yourself! And he should have at least tried to make you cum!

A quick glance at the time tells you it's not too late, and you send off a text, expecting a gentle refusal.

What you don’t expect however, is Steve arriving at your apartment twenty minutes later, angry as all hell, and he all but pushes past you when you’ve opened the door, coming to stand in your living room with his hands on his hips, his brow low and his lips in a thin line.

“Are you serious?” He asks at last, when you’ve stood staring at one another for long enough. He gestures absently, but his hand comes back to his hip.

“Wha—”

“—Don’t.” He says sharply, and you shut your mouth. This was different… you’d never really seen Steve angry before, let alone angry with you… it doesn’t at all help your current situation though, and you swallow, adjusting your stance.

“You know damn well I saw you leave with him earlier! I can smell the sex in the air. You haven’t had enough already tonight?” The words are harsh and hurt lances through you momentarily, before defensiveness takes over and you cross your arms over your chest, lifting your chin a little.

“Excuse me? Who I spend time with and how is none of your business!” Steve scoffs and looks off for a moment, a mirthless smile on his face.

“Right. But you still want me to fuck you after anyway.” The vulgarity is new as well, and it occurs to you in the back of your mind, that he must be really pissed with you.

“If you didn’t want to come, you should have just said no!” You say, your voice sounding a little more shrill and a little more crackly than you want it too. All your bravado aside, Steve was imposing when he was angry, and the fact that anybody yelling at you, let alone him, was enough to make you cry, gives your voice a shake you didn’t ask for. Not to mention that you really hadn’t expected him to show up at all, especially angry.

Steve looks back at you, his fuming expression not exactly subsiding, but it softens some, and he drops one hand from his hip to rub at his brow before he looks back up at you, more exasperated now than anything else.

“Why did you call me?” He sounds tired, but you know an olive branch when you see one, and you snatch it, stepping closer, ducking your head.

“Why do you think…?” You shrug and purse your lips before looking up at him again.

“He was shit. You aren’t.” His shoulders square just a little at your words, and you know it's a bit of a low blow, any guy was likely to be more inclined to having sex with you if you compared him positively incomparison with another man. Steve cocks his head, lids dipping slightly and you know you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.

“Is that right?” You’re right in front of each other now and you let your hands wind up around his neck, playing demure as he fixes you with a knowingly amused look, his hands landing firmly at your waist.

“Mhmn.” You hum, nodding, shrugging once again.

“He didn’t know how.” You say, pouting as Steve dips his face closer to yours, and again you find yourself pretending that this wasn’t just sex, that these arms where ones you could be wrapped in whenever you wanted.

“Didn’t know how to what?” Steve asks, voice deep and rumbly in his throat, his breath coasting over your lips, and you lean in quick, nipping at his mouth chastley, feeling his hands tighten at your waist.

“Didn’t know how to take care of me.” Magic words, really. Steve is on you in seconds, mouth devouring your own, the warmth of him engulfing and you let yourself sink into the fever.

Perhaps some of that anger still simmers under the surface, because he fucks you hard, his thrusts just a little more pointed, his fingers digging a little deeper into your skin. His teeth nibble at your lower lip making you keen for him with another gasp as his hips snap against yours once again.

He’s covering you completely, chest to chest, his arms rest around your head, caging you in, and you grasp onto him wherever you can, hiking your thighs higher around him as he drives into you quickly.

“You know, if I wanted to make a point,” Steve begins, his voice raspy and puffed slightly, and you peel your eyes open to look at him, his face so close to yours it almost makes you cross-eyed.

“I’d not make you cum either.” He finishes, and you start, a slight wave of panic setting in, and you open your mouth to preemptively beg, but then he’s shifting, a hand sliding between your sweaty bodies, fingers pawing until they find your clit, and you suck in air sharply.

Steve wears a lazy but wicked grin, and he begins swirling his fingers over your bundle of nerves, dropping his face low enough that when he speaks his lips brush over yours.

“But I like watching you cum while I fuck you.” As your breathing shallows, Steve seems to swallow down each short breath, eyes never leaving your face as you quickly feel your release creep up on you, his harsh, deep strokes combined with the rough pads of his fingertips rapidly spinning circles and you’re falling.

Steve uses his body to hold you down, prevent you from shaking or jerking too much as you topple over the edge of release, your pussy clutching onto his cock even as he grunts, continuing to grind into you as you call out his name over and over.

He drops his face to your neck as your senses come back to you, your brain feeling light and your eyesight a little dimmed from the sensations. You know any second now he’ll pull out, jerk himself until he spills on your stomach or thigh like he always seemed to nowadays, but something ticks in your brain, raw and primal and you hook your ankles as best you can behind him, raking your fingernails over his back in marks that will disappear by morning.

“She tighter than me, Steve?” You feel his head start to lift a little, but you gently bite at his earlobe, stopping him.

“Does she feel this good when you’re fucking her?” Something switches then in the atmosphere of the room, he picks up his pace again, and you jump when one hand fists in the back of your head, pulling your neck back and away. Steve glares down at you, though his game is half given away by the grunt he gives a second later.

“Shut up.” He says, though it isn’t half as harsh as you expect, and he rolls his eyes some, dropping his lips down to your exposed throat now and you feel a thrill run through you.

“Does she let you fuck her like this or is it gentle missionary only?” You press on, yelping a little when teeth scrape at your skin warningly, and the hand in your hair tightens, pulling.

“Because you know I’d let you have me any which way… on my knees, under you, over you… fuck,” You pause, panting a little with effort as he fucks you even harder, each word punched out of you.

“Fuck, I’d let you have my ass if you brought the lube…” Triumph colours you as Steve groans, gasping almost, his fist at your scalp a little painful as he curls his hips deep once, twice, three times more before you feel him finish, and he stills.

Your bodies are hot and sticky with sweat against one another, and you can feel him shake a little in his come down as he finally relaxes.

Like always, in the aftermath you’re both silent for a few moments before Steve lifts his head, his chest heavy against your own, and he fixes you with a unconvincingly unamused expression.

“Thought I told you to shut up?” He asks, shifting to hold up more of his own weight, and you pretend to not hear him, cocking your head.

“Towel?” He seems to relent, rolling off of you and sinking into your mattress as you hop up, moving to your bathroom to grab a spare towel.

When you return, you almost falter for a few seconds in the doorway, swallowing thickly. Steve lies on your bed, one arm hooked under his head, naked as anything, looking like he belonged there. Your chest lurches, and your stomach falls to your knees as you force yourself to keep moving, gently tossing the towel at him as you gather your gown once again.

You’ll shower when he’s gone.

“Really that bad, huh?” He asks when he’s drying his hair, his underwear now pulled up around his hips, and you sigh, smiling slightly.

“Honestly… I think I’m pretty forgiving, but he didn’t even try. I’m the one who had to suggest we change positions even!” It’s easy to fall into this routine with Steve, especially after you’ve both been satiated, but it’s not really a dynamic that exists anywhere else at any other time.

At work you were friendly but professional, around friends you were polite but never seemed to stray too close (neither of you wanted a particular redhead in your business), and you made a point of not hanging out outside of that. You were already sleeping together, that was more than enough. Anything more would just make you hope, and hope would only let you down.

Steve was still Steve. He was still the guy everyone turned to in a crisis, he was still the man on the ground nine times out of ten. You broke up for a reason, and you needed to keep that in mind.

Steve shoots you a wince and scrunches his nose as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders and pops his head through the hole.

“I’m sorry for… yelling.” He says after he’s pulled on his pants, and you frown, looking away.

“Don’t be… I probably shouldn’t have called you.” You say, missing the dip in his brows when you don’t look away from one of your flickering candles. Steve purses his lips as he threads his belt through his pants, but shrugs.

“You should just tell him, if you like him”

“Nah… I don’t think there’s much there for me anyway. I don’t know.” You wave him off and stand as he pulls on his jacket. This part was always the most awkward.

“Whatever you want.” He readies his keys and you move with him to the door. You always felt like you were missing something in your goodbye’s, but a hug or a kiss or a thank you was the exact last thing you wanted to do.

Keep it casual.

Steve pauses at your door, his expression unreadable and you fold your arms over your chest, flashing him an easy smile.

“Drive safe, Steve.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

—-

“Wait, what?” You turn in your seat to look at your coworker Lucy, who nods, and finishes her mouthful of yoghurt.

“Yeah, right! Two in the morning and I’m getting calls to analyse samples as if I’m at the off—”

“—No, I meant…” You trail off, mind whirring, trying to think over the details you knew already.

“I didn’t know they’d gone on a mission…” You finish with instead, sitting back in your chair.

It wasn’t like you knew the Avengers schedule off my heart, or that it was your job to know everytime they left the tower. It made sense as to why Steve hadn’t been talkative the past few days though… Still, he’d confirmed that your ‘meeting’ was still happening this afternoon, even though you’d just gotten word that the team was landing in two hours.

Lucy chitters on until your half-day ends, at which point you quickly pack up your things and make your way to the elevator. You consider calling in to the upper floors, the residential ones, to speak with the man himself, but you decide against it. It wasn’t like you were a regular up there, it would be weird and raise questions, not to mention that given his recent return from a mission, he was likely in debriefings or writing up his reports.

You pull out your phone instead and send off a quick text.

‘Just heard you got in from an assignment… Do you want to reschedule this afternoon? I know you’re probably tired as hell…?’

Steve doesn’t reply right away, and honestly you don’t expect him too. You make it all the way home before your phone buzzes, and you find yourself staring for several minutes at the words on the screen.

S: ‘I’m happy to come over, if you’re still free. I’m totally fine.’

You send him a quick confirmation, but can’t help but chew on your lip. Part of you wonders why he’d bother. You know he was lying about being fine, super soldier or not, everybody liked their downtime after an extremely stressful few days, and coming to your ex-girlfriend’s house for a hookup wasn’t exactly that… then again, maybe he really needed his itch scratched. Who were you to judge?

You’d finished your day at two, which was nice, and you do a quick clean up of your apartment before Steve was set to arrive at four. You shower and change and throw a little bit of makeup on, finishing just as your doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you can see right away that he’d been lying about being fine. Maybe nobody else would notice, but you had spent a considerable amount of time around Steve, and you could pick out his undereye bags straight away. To anybody else he’d look completely normal, but his shoulders slump just so, his smile just a little too tight.

“Hey.” He greets as you step aside, letting him kiss your cheek as he enters. You don’t know when that became a thing, but it was something you’d seen him do with a few of his female friends, so you let it slip, knowing it wasn’t just you.

“Hey…” You shoot back, suspicion slightly etched on your words. Steve immediately rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he hangs his jacket on the back of your couch.

“I’m fine.” He tells you pointedly and you decide that you can’t be bothered arguing. It was his choice to come, if he didn’t really want to, then he’d have to deal with that like a big boy.

Casual conversation ensues, he asks about your week, you tell him the hot goss in the forensics lab, and then somehow from that very enticing subject, you end up on your bed, Steve hovering just over you, lips pressed hotly against your own. Despite yourself, not all your hook ups with Steve were hot and heavy and quick. You missed making out with someone, the build up of it all, and even though you told yourself it was dangerous territory, you went there anyway.

Steve’s hands trail slowly up your body, feeling you over your clothes, and then under. You get rid of his shirt fairly quickly, his shoes kicked off already, and not for the first time, you just relish in being held, the fantasy that this was real, and you weren’t casually sleeping with your ex-boyfriend. Steve plants his knee between your legs when you scratch at the back of his head, a groan following shortly after as his fingers work to find the bottom of your shirt and get it up. You part for only seconds when he pulls it over your head, throwing it to the edge of the bed. You hadn’t bothered putting a bra on, leaving you already exposed. Steve may be Captain America, a symbol of a nation and whatever else, but he was still a man, and the second he can, he’s got his lips pressed to the skin of your neck and rapidly descending, hands groping appreciatively at your breasts.

His mouth leaves hot kisses down your throat, over your chest, and you’re so ready to feel his lips take over from where his thumb brushes over your nipple when the doorbell rings.

You both pause a moment, Steve lifting his head and you groan, scrunching up your face as the bell is joined by rapid knocking. Steve smiles, cheeks a little pink, and shifts off of you, already reaching for the nearest shirt. It’s his, but you don’t think he’ll mind much as you slip it over your head and shoot him an apologetic glance as he makes himself comfortable on your pillows, placing an arm behind his head.

“Sorry, just… give me a moment…”

“It’s fine.” Steve waves off your apologies as you jog from the room to your front door.

It’s a package you have to sign for, but the courier brings up the wrong electronic form, and you’re forced to wait impatiently as his slow device loads the correct one instead. You’re trying to remain polite, trying not to tap your foot or your fingers, but by the time you’re closing your door again, you don’t even stop to look at what the package is, chucking it onto your couch and all but racing back to your bedroom.

“Just a courier, but while I’m up, do you want a be—” You cut yourself off, coming to a stop in your doorway, eyes landing on the sight laid out before you. Steve lays against your decorative cushions, shirtless, his arm no longer behind his head, instead now he’s curled on his side, another pillow stuffed between his arms where he squeezes it, eyes shut tight, mouth slightly ajar.

Your heart skips several beats, the urge to squeal at how adorable he looks only overruled by the odd stirring in your stomach at how much you missed seeing him in your bed. And then that thought is cancelled out by your guilt.

For Steve to actually fall asleep unintended, he must have been exhausted. You really should have insisted on rescheduling…

He stirs a little, humming softly and adjusting his hold on the pillow he was cuddling and you start. You should wake him up and send him home. You weren’t dating, you were only tentatively friends. You were just sleeping together, nothing else.

But you don’t.

Instead, you move to your laptop in the living room. You had stuff you could stand to get done. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

You end up logging back into your work server and ticking off several tasks on your to-do list, losing track of time in the process. It isn’t until nearly seven when you notice, at which point you send a glance back to your bedroom doorway, before pulling up your local pizza places’ online ordering site.

Steve wakes not too long after, his footsteps purposefully loud, and you turn again to look at him as he exits your room, scratching his head and looking for all the world like an embarrassed child.

“For someone who wasn’t at all tired and was totally fine, you sure did take a midafternoon nap.” You tease and he gives you a thin, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry… I—”

“—It’s fine, Steve. Besides, I ended up clearing off my schedule for the week, so that’s nice.”

He still looks bashful, even as he takes a seat opposite you at the table.

“Do you want me to head out?” He asks, and you wave him off, standing up to move to your fridge.

“Nah. Unless you want to. But I ordered pizza a little while ago. Figured you’d be hungry. Beer?”

Steve blinks and you see him processing his choices, but he eventually nods, and you pull two bottles, cracking them open and handing one to him as you take your seat again.

“Beer and pizza isn’t exactly how I’d expected tonight to go, but you know, it’s up there.” You shrug, and Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” He asks.

“I’m just saying, I’ve had some interesting sex in my time, but I’ve never actually had a guy fall asleep on me before…” You both laugh, and trade jabs until your food arrives.

Steve offers to get it, which you don’t protest, grabbing some plates and moving your drinks to the couch instead. You realise, when you take a look back at him handing some cash to the delivery guy, that you’re still wearing his shirt, and groan internally.

You change quickly, pulling on your own clothes, and chucking Steve back his own when you return to the living room. He’s sat in ‘his’ seat once again, and he only lifts an eyebrow at you when he catches his shirt, before pulling it on. You don’t even pretend to not stare at the way his body stretches and moves when he does, and he doesn’t pretend not to notice.

“You know, I was gonna ask for it back when I woke up.” He tells you as you both start grabbing slices to put on your plates.

“Oh?”

Steve ums, and settles back in his seat as you search for something to play on the tv.

“But I kinda miss seeing you in my clothes.” He says, and you pause.

You fight the urge to look at him, and even though your heart beats loudly in your ears at his confession, you try to go on as if what he’d said was totally normal.

“Um, have you ever seen this one?” You point to the screen, displaying the rundown of a show you’d heard some of your coworkers talking about, and Stev shakes his head.

“Clint talks about it, but I haven’t had the time.” He shrugs and you press play.

Eventually, you find yourself relaxing again, one of you occasionally piping up to chat some shit about how unrealistic or contrived the show was, and eating your fill (and then some) of pizza. It’s weirdly casual, in a way you truly haven’t felt around Steve in a long time, but just like when you’re doing far less casual things together, it’s easy to just pretend for a while.

You fall asleep on your couch sometime after midnight, and in the morning wake up in your bed, your living room devoid of beer bottles and pizza boxes, all the remains plated and covered in your fridge. You want to be angry at yourself for allowing your interactions with Steve to go beyond the physical, but you can’t.

For the rest of your day there’s a lightness in your steps and a softness to your thoughts, as you permit yourself this one, silly, selfishness.

—-

One pizza and netflix night turns into two, and then somehow your hookups with Steve become less about sex and more about the company. You still sleep together, of course, but more often than not, you’ll find yourselves too tired for anything. Steve sits on your bed and borrows your laptop to type up reports, and you beside him, a friendly distance away, scrolling through your phone or finishing the latest book you’d started.

You don’t think about it.

But it’s nice.

Natasha and Bucky stop by your lab on a friday night and subsequently invite you to join the rest of the group for drinks that evening. You don’t even feel hesitant to accept, and you don’t think about that either.

You can’t be bothered going home to change and then come back, so you head right up when you clock off. The team is already in good form, lounging around a set of coffee tables on the upper level, several empty bottles already littering the space. The huge glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony have been pulled wide open, and Sam and Clint stand at the grill, trying to out-fry each other.

“You look nice.” Steve tells you, greeting you with a casual half-hug. He foregoes the kiss on the cheek this time, and you don’t think about it.

“Really?” You ask, genuinely amused.

“I came straight from work and I feel like I’ve been sweating in this dress all day.”

Steve grins and shrugs.

“You look nice.” He repeats, eyes not leaving you until Nat calls your attention away.

“Geez Rogers, she’s been here for five seconds and you haven’t offered her a drink?!” The redhead teases from behind the nearby bar, and you laugh, playfully shoving Steve in the arm.

“Yeah, where are you manners?!”

Steve holds up his hands in defeat, still smiling, and you move with him to the bar.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.” Natasha winks, and you wave a hand, letting her mix you some concoction you don’t catch the contents of.

“I may regret this in the morning but; I trust you.”

Nat only laughs again as Steve reaches over the bar to grab himself another beer, and you watch, unconcerned with who could be watching you. When your drink is made, you clink glasses, and move to where the others all sit. His hand grazes your lower back as you walk, but you don’t think about it.

Night falls and food is served. More drinks and more laughs, and when you’ve returned to the bar to fetch a couple more martinis for the fellas now crowding around the pool table, one Sam Wilson slides against your side.

“Good to see you make it tonight.” He nods, his signature grin spread across his face. You chuckle and shrug.

“I really needed to take a load off.”

Sam nods and looks over his shoulder as several cheers erupt from the ongoing game, before he’s staring back at you once again.

“You and Steve back on or…?” The question doesn’t totally shock you, but you still give a friendly scoff, and shake your head.

“No… Definitely not.”

Sam’s brow furrows and he cocks his head.

“We’re just friends again. That’s it. Steve’s a great guy, but…” You trail off, and shake your head once more. Sam shifts to face you and lifts an eyebrow.

“You guys aren’t subtle, you know that right? And I know you ain’t calling him to come fix your sink every other night.”

Your face grows warm and you roll your eyes.

“So what? Doesn’t mean we’re together. We just know each other. It’s comfortable.” You shrug and Sam hums in a disbelieving way.

“Look, Steve is… Steve. He’ll always be more tied to his work than anything, or any one else, and that’s fine. I just know I can't expect more from him than… this.”

Sam watches you for a moment, eyes searching your face until he looks away, nodding his head, relenting.

“Whatever you say. I’m just saying maybe you should give it another go… with the three of us now rotating leadership, things might be different.”

You frown at that, as Nat finishes with the drinks you’d asked her for, and cock your head.

“What do you mean ‘the three of you on rotation’?”

Sam sideyes you.

“Steve stepped down as our sole guy, like, a year ago now. Rhodey, he, and I take turns. We got a week each on rotation.”

You blink at the information, and wonder why Steve had never mentioned it before.

Him stepping down as the Avenger’s go-to leader was… a pretty big deal. Actually, you’re kind of shocked by it. Steve had always been, as long as you’d known him, unable to walk away from a fight. If a situation was going down, he had to be there, at the front taking charge. It was literally the reason you’d broken up. He didn’t know how to take a break, and in his life, you’d always be second, maybe even third priority.

Sm nicks one of the drinks in front of you, and you half-heartedly scold him for it as you attempt to carry the other three back to the pool table, Steve putting his cue to the side and stepping up to help you when he notices.

Sam’s words continue to spin around your brain as you settle back in to watch. It isn’t until Bucky elbows you gently in the side that you realise you were being spoken to, and you blink around.

“We were saying that we forgot to set a prize for the game.” Sam re-explains, and you hum.

“I said maybe you’d give the winner a kiss.” Bucky adds, his face clearly joking, but in that ‘only joking if you are’ way.

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Jesus, what is it? 1955?”

Bucky shrugs and sips at his drink. He’d always been a flirty drunk, not that he was drunk-drunk, but his serum seemed to affect him in slightly different ways to Steve. If he really tried, he could get a pretty decent buzz.

“And besides, I doubt Steve would see that as much of a prize, and last I checked, he was wiping the floor with you chumps.” You wave a hand and Sam cackles. Steve lifts an eyebrow at you, catching your eye.

“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart, a prize is a prize.”

You hardly hear his words, it's his expression that draws you in, makes you forget about the company around you. The air feels hot all of a sudden and you really wished you could drag him off. You shrug.

“Well maybe I’ll give you something else if you win.”

If the others pick up on anything other than friendly banter, they thankfully choose not to mention it, simply laughing and moving back to the game. Steve’s cheeks tint a little pink, but he throws you a wink when he takes his next turn, and you have to laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity.

Steve holds the lead for two rounds, but Bucky, fuelled by Nat’s martinis, makes a comeback, and as the final scores are tallied, he leans in, tapping his cheek expectantly. It’s all in good fun, and you roll your eyes for the hundredth time, but make good in your promise of a prize and instead grip him gently by the chin and plant a quick kiss to his lips. Bucky lifts his drink in achievement, and you playfully shove him away.

“I’m sure Freud would have something to say about that.” Steve says teasingly, plopping down beside you, and you scoff.

“Nobody listens to Freud, and you and Bucky aren’t actually family.” You almost add that you and he aren’t actually dating either, but you stop short. Steve throws you a grin and relents.

“You finish that book yet?” He asks, referring to the Freud book in question that you’d been halfway through the last time he’d been over.

You shake your head.

“No. And I don’t think I will. I can put up with a lot of batshit crazy things, but I draw the line at him.”

Steve laughs, and takes a swig of his beer. A thought occurs to you then, and you turn to face him, squinting.

“Did you lose on purpose?”

“What?”

“The game. Did you lose on purpose?”

Steve blinks sheepishly at you in the same way he did when he was formulating some kind of believable lie, and you roll your eyes, smacking his arm.

“You’re so full of shit!” You laugh, watching him shrug and shift awkwardly.

“I didn’t want you to feel awkward.”

You sideye him with another huff of laughter.

“I mean I offered, in front of our friends, mind you, to give you a blowjob if you won… how awkward did you think I felt?” You watch Steve’s cheeks light up again, and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you this time.

“Was that what you meant?” He asks, as a sort of recovery, but you can see he’s still a little flustered. You chuckle, and lean into him, resting your hand on his upper thigh and squeezing just slightly.

“Maybe next time.” You wink, and watch his expression shift, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly, and you just know he’s imagining what would be happening right now if you weren’t surrounded by at least ten other people.

Again, you feel the urge to drag him away, but you keep your cool, leaning away from him and removing your hand as Tony and Rhodey make their way over to the couches.

As the night wanes on, Steve’s arm ends up over the back of your seat.

You don’t think about it.

—-

“Are you sure you don’t have anything better to be doing?” You ask, a little exasperatedly.

It wasn’t that you weren’t thankful, but Steve was too good to know when to say ‘no’. Not that you’d even asked him, he’d offered and then showed up at your door bright and early anyway, regardless of your non-committal answer.

He just shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Day off.” He tells you. You squint. You know now thanks to Sam that he wasn’t lying, but it still makes you squirm a little.

“Well, whatever. Don’t come complaining to me about splinters.” You snark, moving ahead to inspect the branches of the next pine tree along.

Steve pouts.

“But you know those tweezers are too small for my fingers…”

“Oh, what a hard life, Steven! You never get sick and are basically invincible… except for those damn pesky tweezers!”

Steve nudges you in the side, as you laugh.

“Don’t let the bad guys know about that.” You side-eye him and he gives you his best puppy-dog eyes.

“You’re the only one who knows my secret.” He says, with over-the-top sincerity.

“I trust you.” He adds a moment later, and you snort.

“Well, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

You continue to sass and snark at each other as you walk down the rows and rows of trees, not even really looking at the pines, until you realise that an hour is probably too long to spend tree-shopping, and pick out the nearest half decent one.

Steve carries it to his car, as he’d offered to do in the first place, and you strap it up tight before getting in.

The conversation flows easy and light on the drive back, and when Steve’s phone rings, you switch instead to staring out the window at all the Christmas lights and decorations the city had put up in preparation.

“Hello? Oh, yes…?” You can only hear Steve’s side of the conversation, not blessed with super-hearing like he was, but you turn your head, intrigued when he seems to falter.

“Today? Well I… in twenty minutes? Oh, um…” He looks over at you, a frown pulling at his brows.

“If you need to stop somewhere…” You whisper, waving a hand to confirm you were okay with the detour, and he shoots you a tight smile, before setting his eyes back on the road.

“I can do that, no problem. Okay. Thank you. Bye.”

“What was that about?” You ask immediately, curious now that you were seemingly being dragged along.

“I had to get a suit altered— for Tony’s christmas party on the weekend…” He begins and you ‘ah’. Tony had declared all attendees go all-out. No jeans were allowed, it was supposed to be a strictly formal event.

“But the owner of the store just realised my appointment clashed with her flight out of the city this afternoon.”

“So we’re going to pick it up?”

“Yeah.”

You hum, and nod, fiddling with the radio now as you drive past the turn off for your place. Steve had promised to help you carry your tree inside, and given the time, it would probably take too long for him to make his appointment if he took you home first. You didn’t mind though.

The tailor he’d chosen wasn’t some fancy, high end retail store, but you never expected it would be. Instead, Steve holds open the door to a small, mom-and-pop type shop, with dark wooden interiors that just screamed old-school class. You enter and promptly take a seat in the showroom as Steve is whisked away to try on his suit for a final inspection.

You’re staring mindlessly at your phone when he steps back in, a little awkward, clearly asking what you think.

“Well, well, well Rogers… So you do clean up nicely after all!” You tease, standing and moving closer as he rolls his eyes at you and faces the mirror. You watch him smooth down the suit jacket, looking a little self-conscious if you’re being honest, but then his eyes find yours again in the mirror.

“You’re going, right?”

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a bit.

“I think Tony would have my head if I made up an excuse… and I kinda like christmas parties… dressing up, mistletoe and all that.” You wave a hand, and Steve turns back around to face you.

“Come with me.” He says, breathily, like he’d been holding the words in for so long he just couldn’t keep them anymore. You freeze, staring up at his hopeful expression, feeling for all the world like your veins had suddenly turned to ice.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, and the blond shifts on his feet, lifting his chin a little more confidently this time.

“Come with me. To the party.”

You aren’t sure how you hear him so clearly when your heart beat thunder loudly in your ears, and suddenly, the walls in the room begin to close in on you. You shake your head with a frown and take a step back from him.

“W-what? No, Steve, I…”

Steve straightens a little, his brow furrowing now and you struggle to speak, panic rising in your chest.

“Steve, we’re— we’re just friends. This isn’t— we aren’t dating!” You stress, still shaking your head, and still stepping away from him. Steve ‘s jaw sets a little and he gets that look on his face like when he had something to say, but he knew it would be incendiary.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think we’ve been just friends for a while now, and you know that.” He says instead, voice tight, and you suck in air sharply.

You knew this was a mistake.

You knew doing anything outside of your agreed-upon interactions was dangerous, and yet, like an idiot, you’d gone there anyway.

“Steve— I am—” You lower your voice somewhat, remembering where you are, and hold out a hand.

“This, what we’re doing now, this is fine. Nobody gets hurt, it’s fun and—”

“—Who's getting hurt exactly?” Steve cuts you off, and you barely refrain from yelling at him.

“Me! I am not going to sit around, waiting for you to find the time to see me! I’m not doing that again. I’m not playing second fiddle to your job!” You explode, immediately pulling back at the flash of grief that lances across Steve’s face.

You look away from him and rub at your temple.

“Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come.” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth.

“Every. Time.” He repeats, and you finally bring yourself to look at him.

“I am sorry that the lines got blurred. But I am not—” You stutter a little, choking on your words, but you clear your throat.

“I cannot do this again.”

And you leave.

You run away, because it was less scary than whatever Steve wanted from you. Less scary than opening yourself up and getting hurt like before.

And you were an idiot for it.

You hate yourself for crying when you get home, sans christmas tree now, and a big part of you is glad Steve doesn’t follow you, or try to call. A bigger part of you cries that he doesn’t, and at the fact that despite trying to keep things casual, keep him at arm's length, you’d gone and gotten all tangled up anyway.

It was a mistake.

You knew from the start, but you can’t even revel in your own self pity for too long, because soon enough you’re coming to your goddamn senses.

You were a complete and total bitch.

Steve had hurt you, yes, and maybe springing a date on you like that wasn’t the best way, but even you aren’t dumb enough to not notice his change. He had hurt you, and then he’d changed. He’d taken a step away from leading, to be more present, to be more around, and he was right, he had come every time you’d needed him, for whatever reason. He’d kept your scheduled meetings, even when he was dead tired and really could have called them off.

He’d done everything you could have asked for.

And you hadn’t even asked for it.

—-

Your nerves nearly consume you when you step through the doorway and into the open space of the residential floors. Tony had gone just as nuts with the decorating as you’d imagined. Not a single corner of the room looked like Christmas hadn’t thrown up all over it. Yet, even your love of this time of year couldn’t trump the anxiety that rolls back over you as you look around the room.

You’re actually glad that you can’t spot him right away. It lets you relax, greet other people, ease into the nerves you feel. Besides, if your little meltdown had sent him back into the arms of whatever-her-name-was, you might just be sick.

The jig is up however, when Sam Wilson slings an arm around your shoulder, bright smile betrayed only by the knowing glance he gives you.

“Didn’t think I’d end up seeing you tonight.” he says casually, leading you toward the bar, and you shrug as best you can.

“I’ve got to grovel at some time. Christmas party seemed dramatic and cinematic enough.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic look and squeezes your arm.

“He isn’t upset with you.”

“He should be.” You say, shaking your head and dropping your gaze.

Sam sighs and removes his arm from you so that he can signal the bartender.

“He’s upset with himself.”

You roll your eyes.

“Of course he is. Cause he’s so damned good.” You kick the bar lightly in frustration, and sink a little more into self-hatred. Sam slides a shot of clear liquor toward you.

“Courage.” He says, tipping his own back seconds later, and you relent, plastering on a tight smile before pouring the contents of the glass down your throat.

It burns, and fills your nose with the distinct taste of vodka, and you scrunch up your face, Sam laughing at you when you put your glasses back.

“I’d like less courage next time.” You tell him, and he shrugs.

“I doubt you’ll be saying that in five seconds.” His eyes skip over your shoulder and you frown.

“Wait, why?” A quick glance behind you makes you panic, wide eyes finding a grinning Sam once again, who is already slinking off.

“Sam!”

It’s useless though, he’s gone in seconds, and quickly you become very aware of the man who’d come to stand a small distance away from you at the bar. Biting the bullet, you swallow thickly, and turn to look at him.

Steve looks much like he had the last time you’d seen him, which really only makes your stomach churn more in memory of the way you’d acted.

“Hey…” You greet, worried perhaps he might ignore you, even though you know damn well he could hear you over the crowd. But he doesn’t, eyes swivelling to find your like it was what he’d been waiting for. He gives you a conservative smile and nod.

“Hey.”

The one word alone, filled with so much simple sadness makes the damn break, and before you even realise what you’re doing, you’ve stepped right beside him, hands wringing in front of you.

“Steve, I am so sorry. What I said— I was just— I was a bitch.” You finish lamely, but he only looks down at you, slightly bewildered, as if he really hadn’t expected you to say anything about what had happened.

He turns in to face you, feeding off of your distressed body-language, one hand coming up to touch your arm, and he looks around concerned for a moment before back at you.

“You wanna go somewhere else…?” He asks, and again, you wallow in self-hatred at the way that he so quickly seemed ready to defend your clear anxiety. You swallow, and nod, letting him lead you away from the bar.

He guides you through familiar rooms just as decked out and just as full with people, until you reach a small, quiet staircase, one you know leads up to the private floors.

You’re well aware of how long it had been since you’d last stood in his apartment, and it only spurs your nerves on more. Maybe you should have waited… maybe the christmas party wasn’t the ideal time…

“As far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to apologise for.” Steve says, which only makes you scoff, rounding on him where he stands.

“Steve, you’ve got to be kidding!”

He only shrugs, sad eyes turning down and you sigh.

“Everything I said was… I shouldn’t have said it. You were right. Things haven’t exactly been ‘casual-hookups-no-strings-attached’ for a long time.” You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve and shuffle on your feet.

“I… I like what we had. Just… hanging out. You’re… you’re so easy to be with, and I like that, Steve. I never feel like we’re on different pages, you always get me, you’re great in bed… I— I like being with you, so much…” You pause and take a shaky breath.

“And I know that you’ve been trying. You’ve… frankly, you’ve changed more than I was even asking for back when—” You cut yourself off and shake your head.

“My point is. I’m sorry. I was a bitch because having you in my life in some way is better than not at all, and if things ended the way they did last time, I wouldn’t be able to even look at you— Am I even making any sense?!” You drag a hand over your hair and sigh. Steve moves toward you, slowly, and you force yourself to look at him.

“Yes.” He says, stopping just in front of you.

“I think.” He adds a moment later and you can’t help but laugh. You shake your head.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and watch him stare at you, before nodding.

“Thank you. I’m sorry too.” He says, though you can’t even imagine what for right now.

“Is it too late to retroactively accept your invitation to the party?” You joke, and his face breaks into a smile, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I think so… Didn’t get to pick you up or anything…”

You click your fingers in an ‘oh shoot’ gesture, and Steve grabs your hand before you can drop it again. You watch as slowly he brings it to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers.

Your breathing gets shallower at the action, and you wonder if him bringing you here, to his private rooms, was really a good thing after all. You rescind your earlier thoughts. You’re glad you didn’t wait, you’re glad you decided to do this during the Christmas party.

He pulls you closer in a way that feels only natural, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t have to pretend that any of this is real, you don’t need the fantasy.

Steve kisses you long and sweet, his hands firm and secure where he holds you, a silent promise. You think it feels different to how he normally holds you, but you think it’s probably just in your head. You bite at his lower lip, pulling on it just slightly, and his chest rumbles, his hands moving then, squeezing and pawing at you, feet blindly guiding you, moving towards his bedroom.

Clothes are peeled off and set aside, when you try to move atop of him, he only grabs your wrists, trapping you in place against his mattress, and you don’t even care. Steve was here, with you, in his room, and it was real.

He has you face down, pillow raising your hips slightly, his body draped over yours warm and heavy, sweat slicked and firm. Your thighs are only just parted, enough for him to slip inside you, so close, so deep you think you see stars with each thrust. He moves slow, arms caged around your own, hand splayed out against your throat, lifting your head up and back so he can kiss you as he moves, taste each moan he creates as he creates it.

You feel overwhelmed and utterly saturated in him, picked to pieces and pulled apart, his cock sheathed so deep, his weight bearing down on you, you’re drowning in him.

He kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, resting his forehead against you as he picks up his pace, driving faster and deeper, your desperate words of filth and want muffled into the pillow you hold tightly. You think your nails might’ve ripped a hole in the fabric, but you aren’t sure.

You come together, heady cries filling the air before dissipating into heavy, breathy sighs. He doesn’t leave you, stays right there atop of you, still inside you as you both come down. He kisses along your spine again, sweeps some hair out of the way to reach your neck, and that place behind your ear.

“Am I too heavy?” He asks a moment after, voice muffled in the skin of your shoulder, and you laugh, shaking your head, and peering up at him as best you can. He was atop you, sure, but his arms still held most of his weight, never too rough, always just enough.

“No. I like it.” You say, feeling a little shy. All the times you’d slept together, in a relationship, and out of it, this felt real, like all else before was just practice. Steve shifts his hips a little and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Yeah?” He asks, eyelashes fluttering just slightly. You nod.

“I like when you’re here… like this. And you don’t hold back on me.” He lifts his head a little and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever held back on you, when you’ve asked.” He reminds, and you hide your face, laughing into the pillow.

“Well maybe sometimes…” He admits, likely referencing all the times you’d beg him for ‘harder’ and he’d adjust his angle instead, already fucking you as hard as he felt comfortable with.

After a few seconds, he lets up a little to allow you to roll over, though he still hangs over you, chest to chest.

“I never liked leaving after.” He admits, dropping his lips to your cheek.

“I hated going back to my own bed, knowing you wouldn’t be with me in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever said it but,” He lifts his head again and you stare up at him.

“Waking up with you in the mornings after we’d stayed together, it always felt like a battle to get up and leave. I always thought ‘today I don’t need to run. You can take a break’.”

“But you never did?” You wonder, and see the regret flash over his features.

“I should have. Maybe not all the time, but… I should have.” You purse your lips and try to catch his guilty eyes.

“Steve… I never wanted you to completely overhaul your life. I still don’t want you to do that. That part of you, the part that wants to help people and be there for them, I love that. It’s what fundamentally makes you you.” You push back the hair that hangs on his forehead and sigh, tracing the edges of his face now instead.

“I don’t care if six out of seven days a week you need to get up before me, as long as I have that seventh day…” His face softens from the self-judgement you could see reflected in his features and you smile.

“I just… I don’t know, I want to feel like at least a bit of a priority. I know that’s not always going to be possible, I get that… but…”

“I know. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t.”

“And last-minute cancellations should be the exception not the rule!” You joke, and he hangs his head again, but chuckles against the crook of your neck.

“Understood.”

You lay like that for a while, just relishing in one another's presence, feeling your chest’s rise and fall against each other. When he moves next, it’s because his phone buzzes loudly on the bedside table, and you watch him reach blindly out to grab it.

You play with the hair on his arm as he checks the message, the amused sigh he gives off a second later heavy against your chest.

“It’s Buck,” He tells you.

“Says the fellas are getting ready for a round at the pool table…” He trails off as another message comes through, and this time you see him roll his eyes, and chuck his phone to the side.

“He wants to know if you’re going to kiss the winner again.” Steve’s voice is amused still as he finally crawls off of you, and helps you up. You both know you can’t, and shouldn’t stay locked up here all night.

“Well, I tell you what, Rogers, you don’t go easy on Barnes again, and I’ll give you what I promised last time.”

For a moment Steve just frowns in confusion, but as it slowly dawns on him, a challenging, determined glint fills his eyes.

“Better start keeping score then, sweetheart.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers/you #steve rogers/yn #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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HOLY SHIT

I just got to reading the request you did for me

Aka Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

And I love it so much???

Like it's so good 😭

Don't wanna bother you with another request but could you do a part 2? I'm just curious on if the reader ever succeeds or if alastor ends up getting their marriage back lmao

A/N i’m so glad you liked it!! a number of people have been asking for a part two actually so of course :) Also this is my reminder that I am not a woman in stem but an enby in classics so I get science things wrong,, i’m very sorry.

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2 (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Nothing I can think of please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 2,206

First Part: Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I can still be useful" Alastor told himself as he straightened the lapels on his jacket, "She still needs me."

Alastor leaned into the mirror, slicking his hair back just the slightest bit.

"Yes." he nodded to his reflection.

Taking a deep breath, Alastor stepped out into the hall. He didn't know why he was so nervous. Y/n had never caused anxiety to rule his being before, so why was it happening now?

Since her arrival at the hotel, she had stayed locked in her room. Two whole days had gone by and the demon avoided everyone and everything. It was not unexpected or out of the blue, she had always favored her own company above anyone else's but, Charlie was growing tense. She had asked Alastor to help bring their newest guest out of her shell, hoping their shared past would cause his attempts to be more fruitful than her own had been. For some odd reason, Alastor had agreed.

Fondness was the trouble. He was fond of Charlie, and he had always had a bit of a soft spot for Y/n. She had been his wife for christ's sake, there was no way he couldn't have fostered some sort of affection for the wildly brilliant and creative girl.

Before he really realized it, Alastor was at the door to Y/n's room. She had taped a sheet of loose leaf to the door. Keep Out had been written on it in all caps, in her familiar, messy handwriting. Alastor's smile softened slightly at the sight.

Y/n had not haunted his thoughts, had not been an obsession, since his arrival in Hell. While he had recalled her with warmth and a slight smile, even looked for her in Hell on occasion, she had mostly stayed out of his mind after his death. Alastor had had bigger things to deal with, more important occupations of his time. He had had plans. He still had plans but, everything had seemed to change the second Y/n had appeared and nearly flat out told him she didn't care about him.

Alastor was nothing if not prideful. His image, his sense of self, his power, it all played in to the idea of himself in his head. He had figured that through the years of their arrangement, the strange woman had come to harbor some sort of affection for him as he did her. He had figured she at least cared for him as a friend, that her irritation had been friendly, playful even. Clearly, he had been incorrect.

The door suddenly swung open revealing Y/n. She wore an cross expression, a lab coat, and safety goggles. Peering over her shoulder into the room, Alastor noted the way her hair was still continuing whatever she'd been working on before opening the door. He had never seen a demon with a form like hers before. It was perfectly suited, equally unusual as the soul it housed.

"I could feel you standing out here."

Alastor raised his eyebrows, bravado taking over.

"Really, my dear?" he asked, leaning on his microphone before him as if it were a cane.

"Yeah." Y/n flatly replied, lifting the goggles from their eyes and pushing them onto their forehead, "What do you want?"

"I..."

What did he want? Alastor was a man who always knew his goals, his aims. He was always working towards something, no deed without its purpose. It was only now he realized that he didn't really know what he wanted from Y/n, why he had really agreed to fulfill Charlie's request with nothing given in return. Alastor cleared his throat, banishing the complicated thought to another time.

"Charlie requested I come speak to you about your lack of participation in the hotel's group activities."

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"And you care what I do with my time because...?"

She tilted her head slightly to the side, her hands still on either side of the doorframe, blocking him from entering the room. Alastor sighed.

"You're not going to make this an easy conversation, are you."

It was a statement, not a question, and a slight smile cracked across Y/n's tired face.

"You know me so well." she joked lightly.

Alastor was ready, preparing himself to have to force his way into the room to have this chat. He saw the way her hand on the door twitched, and prepared himself to have it slammed in his face. Much to his surprise, Y/n let go of her hold on the door and stepped to the side.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to come in?" she asked after a moment, her head cocked to the side in a genuine curiosity.

Alastor nearly laughed. Always so inquisitive with regards to the world around her, always trying to fill the gaps in her understanding, usually at a loss when it came to what was considered normal interaction. He stepped into the room. Y/n's hair stopped what it was doing with the test tubes in the back and closed the door for her as she turned to face him. After a look of appraisal, she seemed to decide the atmosphere for the conversation and sat down on the bed, patting the empty space beside her at Alastor's continued hesitation. He sat down and she crossed her legs, watching him intently.

"You need to stop avoiding people, and the activities. You are here to be redeemed, aren't you?"

"Oh! I see what the issue is." Y/n smiled brightly, "No, I'm not."

Alastor's brow furrowed. He had thought it odd that Y/n of all people would seek redemption but, had figured the time had simply changed her in ways he had yet to grasp.

"Then why are you here?"

The little beast called hope clawed at the inside of his stomach, gnawed on his ribs. The want was unfamiliar.

"Because I need an angel."

Alastor froze.

"You need..." he watched her in confusion, "you need an angel?"

"Yep." Y/n nodded in earnest.

She smiled up at him, evidently satisfied with herself and her response. She had always been like this. Alastor sighed.

"Why?"

"Because I need to test my virus on one, duh."

"Y/n, what are you planning."

"Same thing as always. Actually, I could use your help. Maybe this isn't all so bad, can you get me an angel? Just at the next extermination or something. I already know it works on demons, I just don't want to actually let my little baby loose without knowing it will work on the angels as well."

"Jesus, Y/n." Alastor laughed lightly, unable to not.

He shook his head in disbelief and Y/n's smile slipped from her face. She was always scheming, always wanting, always doing what it took to ensure she got what she wanted. They were so alike in that way: complete and utter disregard for the world unless it served them.

"What? Did I do something wrong? Did this hotel already work? Have the exterminations stopped?"

"No, I... you really haven't changed."

"Well, I'm taking out the afterlife now instead of the living world, but sure." Y/n crossed her arms, evidently irritated by his remark, "I'm just the same. So are you, by the way. I've heard about what you've been up to since you died."

Alastor was silent in thought for a moment before he spoke again. He looked at Y/n with a determined gaze.

"Are you asking to reinstate our deal?"

Y/n was wrong, Alastor had changed, she just didn't know it yet. The hotel had changed him, whether or not he wanted to admit it. He realized the answer to Y/n's initial question, what it was that he wanted, in that moment and there were only three things. The first was the same as it had been for the last seven years, to get rid of this damned contract he was under. The second? The second he had realized earlier, in his room when he'd been getting ready to come to Y/n, he just hadn't liked it and so, he had ignored it. Alastor wanted to be back in her good books. More importantly, for some undefinable reason, Alastor wanted her back at his side. The world, he had realized, had felt empty without her, no matter how irritating and distracting she could be. Though his motivations were muddy, figuring out the reason for the want was never the priority. The end goal was to fulfill by any means necessary. It always had been, for both of them. The third was that Alastor secretly wanted Charlie's crazy plan to work out. He wanted to protect these sinners, to protect this place they had all worked so hard to build.

There was a point of intersection to be found in two of these three things, if Y/n answered his question correctly. Taking out sinners, taking an angel, could let all hell loose on the hotel. Convincing Y/n to make a deal with him, to give Alastor her soul, well, that would be killing two birds with one stone. He would have his imperfect little companion in afterlife and he could stop her from doing any more damage to the hotel and its reputation than necessary to ensure the first thing took place.

"I suppose."

That was exactly what he had been hoping to hear. The first deal had been under her terms. Alastor had been hoodwinked into it, unable to turn it down due to the information on him she had uncovered. Now, the tables had turned. Alastor held his hand out towards her, grinning malevolently.

"How about this, let's make a new one."

"I don't see why not." Y/n shrugged after having thought it over, her hand meeting his, "Things are different, we're both dead. The old one wouldn't really work anymore."

"No, it wouldn't, would it?"

"Yeah so, you get me an angel to test this on. I start participating more in the hotel. Deal?"

"How about this." Alastor's grin widened, his antlers growing as well as his shadows ate away at the room's walls.

Y/n didn't flinch. Nothing in her expression changed save a slight twinge of intrigue as she watched him become more monstrous by the second, more all consuming.

"I help you get an angel. You stick by my side, like the old days. That would include participation in the hotel and all of Charlie's plans as it is where I work for now. A metaphorical taking of a soul rather than a heart, shall we say."

He was counting on her lack of interest in the world outside of science right now, counting on her lack of understanding of how things worked in Hell when an overlord offered a deal like this. He had chosen the words carefully, getting everything right while keeping the truth hidden.

"I'll still have time to work on my project?" she asked skeptically.

"When there is time."

Y/n smiled.

"Deal."

Green smoke wound its way out from the point their palms met. Y/n watched it, eyes wide with intrigue as it curled around them, temporarily filling the room.

"Is that what happens when deals get made in Hell?" Y/n asked as she let go of Alastor's hand.

"Only certain ones."

"Cool."

She got to her feet, snapping her goggles back over her eyes. Turning to the table, she began to fiddle with her test tubes once again. Alastor retook his normal form, watching her with a satisfied smirk. He summoned the chain, feeling the cool shadow of the mellow across his fingers. Y/n seemed not to notice as the collar formed around her neck. Alastor didn't like that, didn't like being ignored. He gave it a tug and she stumbled back a few steps, her hands flying to her throat and her hair catching the glass beaker she had nearly dropped.

Y/n noticed the chain now. It was impossible not to. As her hair set the beaker down, she turned to Alastor, eyes fixed on the glowing metal. Her gaze traced it from where she held it to his hands. Y/n looked up at him.

"What's this?" she asked, eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, "When did this get here? How..."

She trailed off and Alastor's smile grew wider still. He advanced towards her, wrapping the excess chain around the handle of his microphone. It clinked menacingly against itself, spawning a sudden deep seated dread in Y/n.

She held her place, her shoulders thrown back and feet planted firmly. Alastor couldn't tell if it was all a show or if she really was not at all scared of him in that moment. He didn't really care, it didn't matter. She stared intently up at him in defiance as Alastor came to a stop about a half a foot away.

"Well?"

"Oh my sweet, you really have no idea what you've gotten yourself in to, do you?"

It was better than he could have hoped, could have dreamed. She was entirely under his control.

"Welcome to the rest of your afterlife."

----

Next Part → Till Death do us Part pt. 3

A/N I wasn't super sure how to end this off, I hope you liked it!!

@marukun @nanami1chu @i-like-potatoes12533 @boogiemansbitch @apenasandorinha @almond-t0fu @mygoldtears @ahellborn @winterisholding @misty-melody @themetalbabygirl @trash-shoot

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